PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Night descends upon my bedroom once more

Yet again not heeding I’m ill-prepared.

As always my mind’s a revolving door

Of dire predicaments and souls bared,

And I’m there on the dot to right the wrongs,

To alleviate what burdens I may.

My heart is rarely where my head belongs,

But from where I stand there’s no other way.

Still, any angel has to prune his wings

Or else risk descending beneath their weight.

How else to navigate the burning things

That drive his days and keep him up too late?

Yes, I’m proud of this, it sets me apart,

But who will protect this titanic heart?