sweetcopperpain

there's an angel in the attic
banging things around
my hands are bound to this bed
and the noise is too much
I am covered in my own blood and
it's so easy to wound me when
an angel's teardrop slices clean
I'm waiting for him to come and finish the job
because the blood makes it hard to breathe
my heart is slowing already
need to see his eyes once more
so I listen to the angel in my attic with
his need to break my memories
and I wait for the footfall on the stairs

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