Come to me Angels

Where are the angels? Why don’t they come?
They’ve left me here in my pain, my sorrow
The mental agonies that have beset me
I expect succor and receive nothing
If the angels came I would greet them with — literally — open arms
Caress

The angels must be beautiful
Winged creatures with lustrous hair and silky white dresses and a golden glow
Maybe cherubic
Maybe slender
Definitely smiling and — here is the most important part — comforting

Can I summon the angels?
If I do will that ensure their arrival?
Do they travel?
Or just appear?
Do they speak or sing or dance or rhyme or kiss?
How will they end this suffering?
I suppose it doesn’t matter
I need not worry about how
Just take comfort in their warm, tender embraces

Light the sky
Let rain pour on me
Let me dance
Let me feel joy tingle from my toes to the hair atop my head
Cast away the vicious, scaly grip of heartless horror that has seized my heart
How I would love to forever be free of the morbid depression and angry screams of the terrible feelings that tap at my brain
Come angels

Save me
Help me
Free me
I need your rapturous beatitudes
Don’t let me fall
Make me fly
Where are the angels?