Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes, or anything associated with the show.

A/N: This is my first poem, and my first fanfiction. Please read and review.

Just like the Angel

My mom wanted me to be the world
To have goodness, intelligence, with opportunities unfurled,
She wanted me to go through life, bejeweled and pearled
Just like the Angel.

She named me after a holy saint,
She wanted me to be special but quaint,
Like the right hand of God, I was to be free from taint,
Just like the Angel.

My father wanted me to be a watchmaker
A timepiece repairer, true, not a faker,
A normal life, efficient, modest, not a money taker,
He wanted me to be normal, only somewhat like the Angel.

My mom said special is what I should be,
She wanted the world to worship me
Better than human for everyone to see.
Just like the Angel.

I tried to be different, like she said,
Thoughts of specialness ran through my head
But I was still normal when I went to bed
Unlike the Angel.

How things work, that's all I know,
I can figure things out. Special? It's not so.
I am what my father wanted, but no,
I'm not just like the Angel.

My mom's opinion only matters now,
It's unfortunate I don't know how
To be special. To fate, I bow,
Unlike the Angel.

Then I discovered a new power.
I could take abilities. No more dour
Thoughts of failure. Evilly I glower
For I'm special, powerful, just like the Angel.

But this life is not the life of good.
Finally it is understood
That though I have power, something I never could
Be is just like the Angel.

Angels don't kill
They don't bend people to their will
I am tired of waiting until
I am worthy of being called an Angel.

Powerful, yes. Holy, no.
My mom is as dead as an unshaken globe of snow.
Thankfully, she never got the chance to truly know
How badly I failed at being an Angel.

No more pressure to be what I'm not.
I can enjoy all of the powers I got.
I like the power now, I know in Hell I'll rot
Because I corrupted my soul to become an Angel.

Now, to Maya, I should be angelic again,
My heart strings pull and strain
My angry emotions I can barely contain,
How dare she say I'm just like the Angel?

I've tried to please people all of my life.
It never gained me anything but worthless strife
So it cuts me deep like a red-hot knife
When I lie and say I'm just like the Angel.

After years of attempting to be
Like the Angel in the bible story
A complete stranger says to me
That I am indeed just like the Angel.

Emotions run trough each vein,
I can barely contain
The pride, the guilt, the anger, the pain
It hurts to be called an Angel.

And with these emotions comes the thought
That perhaps though to most people, angelic, I'm not.
But who was it that defined when a good or evil is wrought?
Who says that by some definition, I'm not already an Angel?

It seems like good and evil are just a fad,
Always changing with every new idea to be had.
Who says I can't say who's good and who's bad?
And I say I'm just like the Angel.

So I say that despite evil atrocities,
I'm good despite the slaughter of my enemies
And despite sins greater that these
I am just like the Angel.

A/N: Constructive criticism welcome. Please review.