They wanted a Yearbook submission.
One day, my momma told me I was going to heaven.
That there was a cloud above them all - a cloud for me.
Though I was sad to be leaving my friends, leaving what I knew
I went, thinking that heaven was a place to be free.
I went to my heaven and began living among muses
I got my wings, my halo, and the other angelic needs.
I met the angels and I met all the many saints.
But what I got was different from what was said I would see
The iron gates so famous were made of silver painted wood
The softness of the clouds was because of all the dust.
The windows, prettily painted and framed, made from delicate glass
Were broken and tinted, and all encased in rust.
Years I kept the secret that the angels were all from below.
Forever I waited to be born again to tell.
Who could ever think to believe when I cried and screamed:
“All of heaven is from hell!”
Acting was the greatest thing and all they ever do
In costumes made of sweat and agony that they hate.
They lie, hurt, deceive, destroy and kill all feeling
Instead of love and appreciate.
I grew to detest the cherubs, and disobey the gods.
The concept of angel no longer to me existed.
If there ever was a heaven that was apart from the rest
I hate to say that the true artists have missed it.
I’d rather be Human, and I would rather be banished
Than to wait out the time I have here within.
I’ll be the one that was never spoken about or remembered,
I’ll be the Lucifer if my honesty is a sin.
That there was a cloud above them all - a cloud for me.
Though I was sad to be leaving my friends, leaving what I knew
I went, thinking that heaven was a place to be free.
I went to my heaven and began living among muses
I got my wings, my halo, and the other angelic needs.
I met the angels and I met all the many saints.
But what I got was different from what was said I would see
The iron gates so famous were made of silver painted wood
The softness of the clouds was because of all the dust.
The windows, prettily painted and framed, made from delicate glass
Were broken and tinted, and all encased in rust.
Years I kept the secret that the angels were all from below.
Forever I waited to be born again to tell.
Who could ever think to believe when I cried and screamed:
“All of heaven is from hell!”
Acting was the greatest thing and all they ever do
In costumes made of sweat and agony that they hate.
They lie, hurt, deceive, destroy and kill all feeling
Instead of love and appreciate.
I grew to detest the cherubs, and disobey the gods.
The concept of angel no longer to me existed.
If there ever was a heaven that was apart from the rest
I hate to say that the true artists have missed it.
I’d rather be Human, and I would rather be banished
Than to wait out the time I have here within.
I’ll be the one that was never spoken about or remembered,
I’ll be the Lucifer if my honesty is a sin.