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this poem is about my best friend, he committed suicide not long ago. i remember i always thought about how perfect he was, i called him my angel because whenever i needed him he was there. he set small shed in the woods on fire and burned and bled to death. now all thats left is the memory's of past, that i wish would go away.


The sin of the flame
Tickles the angels wings
And he speaks to himself
“I want to die.”
His heart is broken,
His love unspoken.
Why dose he refuse to fly?
The spiral in which
He fell downward
Has reached and end
And what’s left of his sanity
Begins to bend.
He thinks that
He’s a shame.
As he places blame on himself.

This angel’s name
I dare not speak,
He was held close to my heart
That he gently tore apart
As feather after feather
On his lovely wings were set aflame.
Why dose he refuse to fly?
Instead he whispers to no one
But the flame,
“Please hurry, I want to die!”
His wings now ablaze
And his body blackening
As blood drips from his wrists and arms
Falling to the flame of transgression
He burns, wings and all
In the small shed
That is no longer.
Wings to ashes,
And soul to afar.

Deep in the woods,
In the shed that’s no more
The angel’s cries have died
What a shame,
So young,
The angel fell
To burn in hell.
The bloody scars,
The cries,
The thoughts
That did not subside.
His wings, once beautiful
Burnt and broken
Along with bent sanity
And love he had ruined
His wings no longer shine,
And he now,
CAN NEVER FLY.