When My Angel Flies Away

Every pindrop of joy
is a mountain of pain,
scratching and kicking inside my mind
till a river of tears flows--
hot lava from within the void.

Every day
is Black Monday,
my heart a reflection of the sky;
my blue melancholy
frames the clouds
as the sky mocks me
with the kiss of a clear, sunny day.

Every thought,
dark and harsh,
seeps from the unlit
corners of my mind,
lost without angel wing borders.

Every smiling face,
an effigy of madness,
amused by my agony,
pleased with my abandonment,
existing solely
on the sorrow in my soul,
feeding on the blackness,
growing fat with sloth.

And I'm left
a withered rose
when my angel
flies away
and remains gone.