God and His Angles (Poem)

God and His Angels

If she dies now she will not be hurt
Better is this than treated as dirt

Scrubbing, sweeping, sobbing is all
She'll be allowed till nightfall

Indebted for each crumb, sip of water
Red from blush or slap, would it matter?

Against her unfair skin tone they may protest.
Against their standards she can't be best.

Skinny or fat, short or tall, loud or shy, they'll find
New words solely to poison her mind.

Claps against Roti, whistles of a teapot threaten to be
Her only music. But I hear melodies to be

Cuddling her at Heaven's Gate.
I chose for her the happy Fate.

At the End He asks for His angels, I pray.
Halos above and radiating white gowns will stay

Below their smiles forever.
Joy could be no stranger.

My heart soothes on the cross of Hell,
Seeing God and His Angels; He knows so well.

Achieved is every mistaken fall when not in need.
Tell me why a saving one shall not succeed?

Remains unfathomable thought of my dead blood.
Stepping away from the brink, I drown my flood.

"Fight and Fight" is all I can see.
So I war for her and the ones to be.