The Angel

The thought of loving others does no harm, But the thought of himself leaves scars on his arm. The wind whispered through time passing by, the question of God he wondered asked why. The blood dripped, he could see it from the corner of his eye. He wanted to die, he thought life was a lie. But an angel told him he was worth more than more. The angel, oh angel, he knew for sure. The angel touched him deep down to his heart's core. He loved himself forevermore. The days go by and the scars are healed. Life is an enemy, his himself is the weapon he chose to wield. A broken home to him was his battlefield. His angel was everything to him, more than his shield. Undefeated, he smiled a smile. The most gorgeous is smiles, it lasted all the while. Though days go by, where is his angel? His angel is within he himself, in his heart. And then he whispered "nothing, not death, can do us part." And his arms are left stitched with beautiful art.