Sights of red and smoke-filled air
shade the walls on which I stare

A friend of stars and student of
a child's pure and honest love

Eyes that cry when refusing to see
the many beasts inside of me

My little saviors to whom I reach
and beg on knee for me to teach

Oh, the many faces of nightmares old
in tampered vaults my secrets hold

And mirrors on walls
of tarnished halls
with sticky stains
hearing the small
forgotten calls
of my remains

My angels