An angel to be,

A dream everyone aspires.

She will be goddess,

My grandmother used to say.

 

Enormous white wings on me,

A white dress,

Peace and innocence in both my hands,

And patience in my mind.

I was born with all of that indeed.

 

Rare is diamond

And so are the wings

The reason they chased the part of me,

To snatch it and make it theirs.

I let them tear apart,

As I thought I'd save myself from it 

Why not? I'm an angel indeed.

 

Time passed,

I saw my feathers on the ground

And nothing on my back.

My dress was torn apart daily.

 

I lost my patience,

I released the peace in one hand,

Threw the innocence from the other.

Knit my dress.

 

I wake up with wearing the same white dress now,

With a ring of black opal in one

And wisdom in the other hand

With beautiful dark wings

My scars give me power 

And reminder to not go back

To who I was born with.