Angels

Why do I do it, why do I still cry,
why is it every day I think I should die.

Why is it when they say I am good,
I refuse to believe them yet I know I should.

Why is it that I know self injury is bad,
Yet as I do it I am far from sad.

Why can I not forget my past,
It only makes it harder for me to last.

And as I find it harder and harder to stay,
I know that the angels will help me find my way.

But every time I look up to the sky,
There isn't any one to help me fly.

I close my eyes and hope the angels will appear,
I can hear them calling, telling me that they are near.

But if they decide to fly away,
I know that because I trust the angels I will always find my way.