When you are good to me, it feels like heaven. I am cradled within your arms and sheltered from harm by your angelic wings. You tuck me into the soft clouds and watch over me as I nestle into a blissful sleep. Playing the strings of my heart as softly as you play the harp, my angel.
When it is bad, it is the epitome of hell. Your temper ruptures like a volcano and your destructive words spew out, burning me alive. You ruthlessly drag whatever is left of me down to the earths scorching core, ensuring no ounce of my dignity and self worth is left. After all, the devil was once an angel too.