I Wonder What Language Angels Speak

I wonder what language angels speak….
It must be similar to the babble of infants cause those are the only angels I've ever seen
see, I fiend for the feel of the rain,
just so I can drown myself in the Lord's pain and with every drop I could wash away my impurities with the tears of angels and maybe my broken wings would heal…
But I'm forced back into the real world and my dreams shatter like fragile china and lay on the floor and I leave them there,
Cause like a child-
my innocence slowly turns to ignorance cause I do not know how to fix my mistakes and the shame is more then I can take so I run
and I try my best to fly but I stay grounded cause you can't soar when your wings are deflicted,
and unfortunately for me,
5'3 and dark skin is not how angels are depicted
And unlike the rest of the angels who's wings were removed and sent to do God's dirty work
my wings were never reattached,
and the only thing I was given was 2 Band-Aids to cover the scars on my back
I bear wounds created by the razor sharp scriptures spit at me from the serpent tongues of pastors,
I bleed the stories of the damned and all of God's bastards,
see
they remind me of me,
and it's for them I cry,
but my tears turn into nothing more than another crack in my mirror cause like my mirror I'm broken,
and no matter how hard I try,
I can't
be
perfect
But then again,
I don't want to be,
and you're not completely understanding what I'm about to say to you is an inevitability,
cause I'm complicated,
I always do but I don't,
I want to drop to my knees and ask God to just forgive me but I won't cause I don't consider myself worthy,
and I don't want Him to control me,
and I don't know how to be holy,
but my ignorance is bliss,
and all I can do is sit in church and believe what the stranger I'm told to call pastor tells me to believe about the father of a child a virgin managed to conceive?
…. but "God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son", but last time I checked, Jesus was the one nailed to that cross dying, and I know it took everything in him to not start crying, and the Lord did nothing,
and you want me to call him Father? but who's to say he won't do the same thing to me, but I will tell him I'm sorry,
sorry that I couldn't live up to be the angel he wanted me to be,
sorry that I'm not perfect and I don't always understand what the pastor is trying to tell me,
sorry I didn't learn how to talk to you and pray correctly
So,
Dear Lord,
please consider this my formal apology,
I stand on this stage bearing my soul and giving you my heart in this testimony,
And showing everyone what a black angel can look like,
and despite my questions, I know it was you who blessed me with this ability to let the truth roll of my tongue in this hypnotic beat and be able to relay my message to the people that fill these seats, and maybe…
I could help somebody like me whos skin holds invisible scars that only they can see that entwine to make an intricate road map that leads to self-destruction,
self-corruption,
some one whos veins pump out self-hate so much so that it constricts the heart and makes it forget it knows how to sing,
but a wise man once said….
the best angels,
… are the ones with broken wings.