Heavy He hated the staggering and the slur Of words, and unfocused, roaming, Dilated eyes and the sharp Smell of whiskey It makes them heavy, like his ma. Why be heavier than you needed to be? he thought, with a crease in his brow Those fools! Of course, no one was light, none of those skin-and-bone models or the airy fairy celebrities. None, save his Angel. His Angel had been given to him Because he had prayed and asked nicely for her She was light; in every sense, you see, but she was cruel And silly, at times When he killed, he did it for the victim He saw it, of course, when their soul lifted off with a soft whoosh He saw the feeling of passing, and they finally achieved what all craved; Lightness, of course. And the silly police Were the heaviest of all, so they hadn't a chance of catching him. But one day he got home and his Angel was Lying down, with the same serenity And cruelly wispy sneer But this, surely, wasn't right? Why was Angel broken in two? He was so confused, but finally he knew he could be light once more (For the unborn were wafer thin) He grabbed a little knife Finished it himself Instead of waiting to join his Angel But this, surely wasn't right? Why could he feel the falling instead of rising? He was sinking deeper into the ebony And suddenly In the final few seconds, there was a twinkling of clarity Only his Angel would ever be light. He could only get heavier.