Broken Angels (a poem)

Each new year is a gateway
Transformation takes place
Among broken angels lying face down
In gutters and cracked sidewalks

Misty rain falls in city mornings
The angels sing, sigh sweetly
Not entering this gateway neatly
I am overcome, completely
With an urge for annihilation

Resolutions are made and broken
To become a new person
Breaking vices that have vice-like grips
That cuff my hands behind my back

Listen to the broken angels sing
They sound like a hyena’s cry
Out here in the heavenly streets
Hold my feet to the fire
Succumb to your desires
Cross the threshold and die

(Photo by Veit Hammer on Unsplash)

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