These emotions are so intense and so in my own heart
I was just so grateful for you going back to where you once belong
In the blue sky where you are in the Holy Land, whilst I am falling apart
I am screaming and screeching out your phenomenal name far too long
My heart has been broken since you have flown away from this disgusting place
Can I please come with you? Screaming and crying at my top of my lungs
In agony my heart has been ripped out of my chest, I am so needing your embrace
Into pain and pure despair, I can’t stop the absurdity of this speedy plunge
A hurtful plunge into the darkness of my own insanity that I cannot escape
My heart has been crushed by Death and raped by the devil himself, conflict with his power
Please send help to me, perhaps an angel or even someone with a flying cape
I could never think of a place that stinks with the heat of death by jumping off this tower
Please God, send me the Angel of the Trinity Light from their magical halo.
I can see your halo and its bright beautiful light that the Demonic Souls are slowly dying
This is my Saviour, my Spirit, my familiar kind Angel saying to me, “Hello”
Grabbing my arms around his neck as we kiss whilst we are slowly flying
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Author:
4wheels (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 14th, 2026 03:48
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Soman Ragavan
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Comments2
The plea of one in pain for help be it from supernatural forces to free them from the suffering of the world. Heart felt and well written
Reading this, I feel like you weren’t just writing—you were reaching. There’s a rawness here that doesn’t try to be polite or composed; it cries out exactly as it is. The way you place yourself on the ground while the one you love rises into the “blue sky” hurts deeply, because it captures that cruel distance grief creates: one soul lifted, the other collapsing inward.
Your imagery is intense, even overwhelming, and that feels intentional to me. This isn’t a gentle sorrow; it’s panic, rupture, the kind of loss that makes the body scream before the mind can form sense. I hear desperation in every plea—to follow, to be held, to be saved—and it makes the poem feel like a prayer said with shaking hands.
What struck me most is how faith and anguish wrestle each other here. Angels, demons, God, death—they’re not abstract ideas; they’re active forces pulling at you. Even in the darkest lines, you’re still asking for light, still believing something can reach down and stop the fall. That hope, fragile as it is, gives the poem its pulse.
This reads like someone standing at the edge and choosing to speak instead of disappearing. That honesty takes courage. Your pain is loud here, but so is your longing to be held, to be answered, to be carried. And that makes this verse stay with me long after the last line.
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