I'm walking through a forest
of pitch black darkness.
It is set aflame, turned to
blood red flame.
The pitch black darkness symbolizes my
depression.
The blood red flame represents my pain
and my anger.
I am surronded
on all sides.
In a hazy swirl of red and black.
The blackness slowly suffocates,
the flame burns my flesh
with intensity.
Until I die.
But instead
of being granted
the cold arms of death.
I awaken with black angel wings
under the same pitch black forest
that my life was ended in.
Now I fly between the trees,
that I once walked under,
of suffering and lost lives
with my black angel wings.
Watching as others
are befallen with the same fate
that I was given.
I cannot help.
I cannot even call out in warning
with my black angel wings.
Until I wake up
and realize my heart
still beats fainlty.
And my black angel wings are gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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