The Angel's Demons

She was once described an Angel as she went about helping people. Never asking for anything in return, just hoping when the day came that she needed an Angel, one would be there. She would get up at 2 am to leave her children sleeping with their father to drive 30 miles so that you would have a shoulder to cry on. She would put off what she was doing or call in sick to work just so that you had some one to talk to, to vent at, to give a new perspective, anything you possibly needed at that moment. She was a rock for one, a pillow for another, a voice of reason, a source of fun, a loud protester of the unjust or a quiet ear for the sorrowful. She bent over backwards to be what you needed, twisting herself into knots until she thought she would snap, but then there would be just that little extra she could give you.
She was once described an Angel as she chased away your demons. As she waved her flaming sword to strike at the heart of the shadow that followed you, she cried tears of healing as your burdens were transferred to her shoulders. Your demons became her enemies for they caused you pain. When there was no more left to give she cut little pieces of herself to offer and you gladly took them.
She was once described an Angel as she raised her children on her own, worked 2 jobs, cleaned house, cooked dinner and still managed to find time for you. You begged for assistance again and again, never once giving thought to the fact that she may not have much more to give you.
She was once described an Angel as she carefully covered the bruise on her face and the bags under her eyes so that you would not worry because your needs were more important than her trivial incident at the bar the previous night because a drunk refused to take no for an answer. She gave you what she had in her pocket though her purse was stolen just the day before, but you didn’t need to know that. You really needed to have those drinks because of your rough day.
She was once described an Angel as she fought back her now powerful demons with rapidly depleting strength because she could handle her own. You needed help. You needed her.
She was once described an Angel as the demons started winning and old thoughts once long gone started to resurface. Old habits started to reemerge with a vengeance to take hold of a soul that she could now barely feel after sharing it with all of you.
She was once described an Angel as she turned to self destruction for a way to deal with the demons. She wrote shitty poetry and stories of murder and her desire for death at her own or another’s hands. When the voices were not silenced she pierced herself in hopes that the pain would make her real.
She was once described an Angel as she cut off all her hair, and cut away at her thighs, hoping you would notice but not wanting to intrude. Who was she to ask for help when you barely had time for yourself? Who was she to unload some of her burden when you obviously had too much to carry? Who was she to need you?
She was once described an Angel as the blood flowed freely down her arms to spill in droplets at her feet, to mix with her tears that were once used for healing.
She could no longer be described an Angel as she collapsed onto the floor, praying that her children would not be the ones to find her, her wings broken, no more now than a pile of feathers floating on a red backdrop. Where was her Angel to fight her demons? Where was the one that needed the lover, to love her? Where was the one who needed the rock, to stabilize her? Where was the one who needed the ear, to listen to her? Where was the one who needed the voice, to speak for her? Oh yes. You were all too busy. Not one of you noticed that she needed help until it was too late. What will you do now that she’s fallen from heaven and damned to hell? What will happen to you now that her heart and soul has been devoured by her demons…?
You were once described a demon…