I find myself wishing I could give my organs to the needy.
Curing cancer with a non-toxic bleach.
Buying a house for each homeless hobo.
Throwing money out the car at random strangers.
Breathing air into the breathless.
Hearing for the deaf.
I find myself crying for mercy for the war-some heartless soldiers fighting for what they believe is “peace”.
Sometimes I wish I was an angel, everyone’s guardian angel.
I’ve been told I’m fragile for a soon to be psychologist.
My eyes bleed and my heart cries, my mind stops functioning and I feel so alone; alone when a million people are around me.
No one in this earth is perfect, no one can ever be but if I could make one wish, I’d be an angel.
People will hate me, spit on me, call me names, attempt to deprive my soul but each word, each meaningless word, would bounce off my light into the darkness.
I want to be an angel.
To cure the incurable.
Mend the broken-hearted.
Truth is, I’m not worthy.
Far from worthy.
But a girl can dream.