I was once happy in my own small world
a simple life, alone, with only youthful creativity
in Wintertime, our small backyard hill was my own personal mountain for sledding
the simplest of made-up games humored me for hours on end
our miniscule neighborhood was, to me, the whole world itself
and later on, dreams consisted of old-fashioned love
of holding hands
of the slightest kiss
no more
I was thrown into the line headed for the blast furnaces
I was told my small hill just wasn't enough anymore
rules were enforced in all the games I played
our neighborhood became practically non-existant in comparison
and innocent love, from what I overheard, became sex
innocence was thrown by the wayside
failed love showed me how it truly was
there are no angels left
there is no purity and goodness left
this corrupted plane proved too much for them
they've gone on to a better place
to a place where they might have a chance
to succeed in saving those who care
to a place where most aren't beyond saving
I don't blame them for leaving
I just wish they'd take me with them
I feel so alone
the angels have all left me
in my world in which evil now totally surrounds me
there is no doubt,
it is as bad as it seems
the angels have gone on to a better place
there are no angels left

written 5/8/99
©1999 Matt Henderson 4/21/76