We sit atop of a
Broken world
We are not holy we are
Graveyard souls

Melanie tried to shake the last encounter with the angel. It felt like his words might be true. She shook her head trying to get his voice out of her head. Angels were not real. God wasn't real. He didn't care about her. She reached under her mattress for her stash. Looking at her clock, it read 1:45 am in glowing red numbers. She took her joint and opened her window, slowly climbing out to her roof. This was her favorite place and time. At night the world always seemed so peaceful. There was no good or evil. Time stood still, and nothing mattered. Her in the cover of night she would be herself.

Melanie took a long puff from her joint. She inhaled and let the smoke slowly drift out of her mouth. She relaxed and let her mind wander.

When she was younger, she remembered going to church with her Grandma. She believed in God, she had faith. But when her Grandma died, so did she. Her light and hope was gone. She really wanted to believe that there was a place after. That she would be able to see her Grandma again, and they would be together forever this time. She wanted her Grandma to be in a wonderful place, patiently waiting for her granddaughter to join her. There was this tiny little light in her heart, yet the cruel reality of the world was slowing burning in out. Soon there would be nothing but darkness in her heart.

There was always this other voice in her head and heart. The darkness. It told her that she did not matter, that she was nothing but a tiny little speck. That she was not important. She was like a foot print in the sand, getting washed away by the tide. The world would not miss her, she did not make any difference. Everything would still go one without her. She knew this was true. That voice always won, it was never wrong, it never lied, it spoke the truth. The dark does not tell lies. The light makes things seem brighter, but the darkness will tell you the truth. It will tell you what you need to hear. You do not matter. The world will keep on spinning, the sun will keep on rising, the tide will still flow. Nothing will stop just because you are no linger here.

Hope was not an angel. Hope was a demon. Hope was a lie. It is the most painful thing a person can posses. There is always that part of you that wishes and wishes and gets crushed. That is hope laughing at your stupidity and naivety. That is Hope putting another tally on their score. Hope is the most painful part of being here. Forget Greed, Anger, Hatred, they are who they say they are. But Hope is a wolf, a dangerous blood thirsty wolf in a kind and caring sheep's clothing.

Her life was one let down after another. Her mother wasn't much of one. She loved her, sure, but she also loved something else. Something that numbed her and made the world an easier place to live. That didn't leave much room left for Melanie. She had to grown up quickly and alone. When her Grandma died, her mother went spiraling down more. They barley kept afloat, all thanks to her. She didn't have nice things, she had to walk or take the bus places. Kids were cruel, she didn't have the latest iPhone or the nicest clothes, that did not go unnoticed by the others.

She didn't take the teasing lying down, while she suffered from depression and self abuse, that didn't mean anyone else could abuse her. She was fragile but not docile. While she got in many fights, she was a great student. She thought about ending it all the time. She could easily exit this world, she came close, always so close. Yet she never did. She felt like somehow she deserved thing life, this punishment. She deserved to suffer and rot. She didn't know why, in the end the why didn't really matter, but she knew that she had to be punish. This harsh life was her punishment. No Angel was to going change that. That was her hand and nothing was going to make it any different. Even when she grew up and flew away, she knew her life wasn't going to be easy, she was born in poverty and would stay there.

She gave the Angel one blade but she had more. She took it out and let it glider over her skin. This let her know she was alive. While she felt numb from her joint, she could feel what she was doing. It was right. It hurt, as her blood trickled down her leg, but she knew this was the only way to escape all her other feelings. She just let the stinging take over her body. Nothing else existed. Another drag, another cut, this was her life. Nothing was going to change that.

"This is my, God. You can't change who I am, you should know that, you supposedly made me, right. Well, aren't you proud."

Another drag, another cut.