Agony

Agony is every waking hour of me. So many have professed to truly love me, but they have left me in the throes of sorrow and anxiety. Still, for true love I reach, but in my loneliness, all that I clutch are tear-soaked pillows and bed sheets. I confess silently to the walls around me that I pray for an angel to rescue me; I stare out of my window on full moon nights to witness the glory of the heavens clearly, hoping my angel will descend gracefully and kiss me passionately.

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