Life! What’s the matter with you? Sending me angels, with wings as wide as the sky with hands as soft as petals, holding me as if I could fly. Stop mocking me! Yes! Indeed, I’m the wounded devil broken head, bloated heart ankles- hurt, hands- anchored. But I was a devil who did no evil except believing in something; something quite medieval that came in a shape of double ovals skewed to the middle looking so royal acting so loyal keeping me moving in the spiral of a never ending ritual. of course I couldn’t spell the word I'm not a coward, I've tried before it took so much of me that even if I could I know that I would, not. and please, I beg of you stop lending me your sorrow I would prefer to borrow a burrow where I can hide my soul from all the ghosts and ghouls haunting me in every tomorrow and bury my worries that would grow memories as sweet as cherries Life, if only, for tonight You could tell the angels to stay for maybe tomorrow, when