By Brianna Ireland
Not all angels go to heaven.
Sometimes angels go to hell.
I know this, cuz I watched you slip.
And loaded your pipe as you fell.
I didn’t realize at the time,
How hard you’d hit your head.
His radar tracked her damaged soul,
And lead her to his bed.
But she was young, and vulnerable.
And he was thirty-six.
Heart wrapped in crystal smoke ribbons,
She laid a kiss upon the devil’s lips.
Come, embrace this invitation,
To a wonderland of sin.
I told the devil, “No,”
He held a gun to my head!
Pumped that fire through her veins,
And laughed when she cried,
And all too soon, our dream
Became a real hell-ride.
Escape did come,
But in a blur.
Escape for me,
But not for her.
Sex is now her occupation,
Love is just a game.
The gears, they keep on turning,
But they’re bound to grind away.
And this girl, that I helped ruin,
Still hides the scars beneath her lingerie.
This poem previously appeared in the Register-Guard, after winning first place in the national poetry contest "Words Unlocked."
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