I don't believe in angels,

I've never seen anyone with wings.

Never seen someone beautiful flutter down and save me,

Wipe my tears and lift my chin.



It's always been me,

To lift myself up.

Tell myself that it's alright,

That even if it's hard,

I'll live to love again.



Tell me,

If angels were real;

Would they look like you?

Would they be blonde,

Brunette,

Ginger or black?



Would their skin be soft and pleasant,

Or would it be non-existant?

Would they be touchable,

Or would they burn me?



Would they be lovely in their beauty,

Or would they be terrible in it?

Would I look on in awe,

Or would I tremble in fear?



Tell me,

If angels are real,

Would they look like you?

Would they make me feel like you do?



Would they be dressed in white,

Or would they be bare,

A thing of nature?

Would they walk upon the ground,

Or would they float above it?



Would an angel look me in the eyes,

And tell me that they love me?

Or would glance away,

Disappointed in what I am?



Even the grandest of creatures must fall,

And I don't believe in angels.