a prayer for the less devout

o great god, do you still love us? do you love all the angels, even the ones cast off to be exiled and ridiculed for eternities on? do you love the angels with tainted feathers, soaked in oil spills, wings plucked like poultry? the angels with thoughts of suicide. the angels who see visions of blood and vomit. the angels with skin as torn as their wings. do you still love the angels that throw away the life you so graciously gave them? the ones that waste away in their rooms, cutting paper into wings to replace the ones they lost? our skin is scarred and our hands shake. our veins filled with toxins and our stomachs filled with pills. our minds a messy slurry of bile and ash. what beauty is the agony you put us through.