! TW ! Mentioning suicide, blood, knife !

I stand in a misty path, all alone.

A knife in my hand.

My gray, big wings match my torn dress with ruffles.

“I was never meant to end up on this path, but here we are,” I sigh quietly.

I fall onto wet stones, surrounded by heather.

It was never easy to be an angel. People wish they could grow wings, until they realise the responsibility. I’ve never a...