Fallen Angels

The wind outside my window stirs me from the sleep I had been attempting to escape to. I draw back the curtains and am face-to-face with the stains of red that are being thrown about by the reckless storm. In the red stains are forgotten friends, the shadows of fallen angels and the stings of unrequited love. Trying to drift away from the onslaught of visions I struggle to close the curtain but the cloth hanging from the ceiling won't budge. With no where else to turn, I'm forced to battle with the foes I've been given. With no weapons or way to touch these airforms I turn inside my own head and prep myself for the fight. I try to forget everything these red stains signify for me, but with a quick left hook they break down my first line of defense. Not willing to be overtaken, I strive to forgive. Just as my opponents are about to turn heel and run, however, my own mind comes in and throws my forgiveness to the ground. There it sits until the puddle of red stains forming wash it away to an unseen stream to escape the nightmare that's now in charge. All my attemps have come up short, and so in a final charge I become angry and withdraw from the fight. I let the malice in the red stains blemish my hands and I step through glass window into the cloud of red. Within a moment I'm covered with the anger and resentment that has made my ill will and I wallow in it. After living with the red stains for hours I wake up to the familiar monotone buzzing on my alarm and get out of bed ready to start another day of work. Even after showering and dressing, though, the red stain stays stamped on my body for the world to see.