BLACK ANGEL
She is an angel, but her wings are not white. They are black from the soot of all the fires she has burned in, stained with the ashes she has risen from. She is an angel not because she was born that way, but because of how she became. The wings on her back, deliberately designed and crafted through intense pain, each flinch felt through her soul as she gritted her teeth and tried not to let it show. They call her an angel, but she sees herself not that way, for she just did what she had to do to survive. She is an angel, but her wings are not white.
© 2018 Rosie Chee