Fighting Angels in my mind,

hard-pressed against

the demons inside, 

reach their tiny hands

out through my eyes.

You’re so heavy,

your frame disappearing 

under the flesh.

You’re so selfish,

you’re ignorance of their pain

presses down as you 

struggle

against your own. 

You’re so shaky,

and you fear where confidence should grow.

You’re not beautiful. You’re not worth it. 

STOP.

Glass feet and crystal dust

pour over the darkness 

encompassing all of me. 

My flawless is

angel hands in seeking eyes,

pouring the gleaming remnants

demons in my friends,

and enemies too;

they need it more.

My flawless is 

the light in my hands 

shining on

"Good enough" is for everyone,

"Beautiful," for even more.

My flawless is

a mission not to judge

but to love. 

My flawless is

dancing angels in my mind

defeating all the demons inside.

We all know where they reside.

Angels of the soul,

they create my pride.