Face the angel

So, you’ve came again...
I’ve told you, I’m not giving up on you.
What if I told I have given up on myself a long time ago?
Then you would be lying, and that simply doesn’t surprise me anymore. Get it?
What I fail to get is why you refuse to accept who I am.
I accept you as you are, and that’s why I’m not giving up. I’ve already witnessed most of your disaster scenarios, I know your worst, I’ve seen the blood, the pieces, the flesh, the fire, the screams, I don’t care.
You don’t care? How can you say that? Weren’t you supposed to look after these people? Isn’t that what you all do over there at your mighty hideout?
Look at people, doing whatever they might be doing, and try to protect them?
In part, yes, that’s about it. But I’ve decided to look after you...
Are you demented? I’ve already tried to kill you, and you know I just don’t try to repeat it because I can’t.
You can’t? Or you don’t want to?
I CAN’T! SEE?
Just because you’re thrusting this cleaver at me and it’s passing through me just as if I was an illusion that doesn’t mean it does not hurt me.
What you mean, my dear demented angel?
I know you’re blind to these things, but it was quite a shock to me the first time you tried. I know, it’s pretty dumb that I actually felt sad because you tried to chop me, and...
I don’t get your point, I can’t kill you, why does that bother you?
Because you wanted to...
So...? Even then you still come after me, I made it pretty clear that we have nothing to talk.
Do we? What are we doing right now?
Discussing your stupid actions. You’re an angel, protect people, damn!
I am.
Oh really? Who did you protect? I’ve never chopped someone and saw an angel breathing life back into the cold body. No angel came and took those people away, you left them to die. You left them for me.
Perhaps because things don’t work that way.
So? How do they work? Your boss leaves you to your own will, talking with the monsters after they slaughter innocents?
You’re not the monster you think you are... we watch from above, and I know what you feel when night comes and there’s nothing more to do but talk to yourself as the moon shines upon the sky.



It’s weird. At the most chaotic times, they keep appearing. It’s almost like the key for making they come is driving things down the well, rock bottom here we go. And don’t you tell me to keep on singing, I won’t. I don’t care how many more of them will come, because I know once they will give up. I don’t want to do it again. Just leave it alone.
They keep on appearing, and I thought this time there would be no salvation. But there really isn’t, and sooner or later they will face the grim side. I’ll shatter hopes, I’ll slay innocence. And I like it.