Angel

You called me an angel, there must be a twist
I'v not seen an angel with scars on her wrists,
Or blood seeping from dark cuts in her arm
Have you seen an angel caught up in self-harm?

An angel who writes about horror in hell
And darkening poems with stories to tell,
I thought they were beautiful and flew with white wings
My lullaby is not what an angel sings.

A halo of thorns rings my scarred head
Not shining white, but a glistening red,
My dress is stained, its ripped and torn,
My eyes are dull, my expression is worn.

An angel, well surely she lives without pain?
No crying or screaming or hurting again,
No strangled whispers of slow broken song
An angel you say? I'm afraid you were wrong.