The Angel Poem by chris schwartz

There's much inside my head
That hasn't healed.
Doesn't matter
If I stay,
Or,
If I go,
If I stare you
In the eyes,
Or if,
I Look the other way.
Like the Angel
On top of the Christmas tree
I never was adjusted
Quite right.
I would imagine,
That,
Once I leave
This troubling earth,
The Angel,
That
You all felt
The need to
Shift in one way
Or another,
Just to suit yourselves,
Will suddenly glow,
Just the way she was.
There won't be anything
Else that needs to be
Straightened,
Of fixed.
The Angel will be
Remembered,
For just how awkwardly,
She glowed.