Every angel has a demon,

Just as every light

Creates a shadow,

And it gets more arduous

To separate the two each day.

As the sun rises, my Angel rises.

She likes to please others.

She’s kind. Obedient.

She carries a message

Of hard work and wistful dreams

Passed down for generations

And she does not want to fail.

But in the abscence of light,

Where she is hidden by shadows,

Something is tired of expectations.

Tired of listening.

It dares to think it is more important

Than an unattainable fantasy.

It wants to know how it feels

To dance its way through the night

Instead of scrambling for wood

To create a fire.

It wants to paint the world in graffiti,

Every crude thought that comes into mind.

The silence has created a monster

And it wants out.

But it has never seen the sun.

However, winter 

Is approaching

And the sun

Sets earlier

And earlier

Each

Day.