Angels constantly swirl around me.
Some are beautiful. Some are violent. Some have bad teeth.
They protect me from those who would rip out my soul and string it up on telephone lines by clothes pins.
Those who malevolently peer out of strollers as they’re pushed along by parents in designer jogging suits.
My angels whisper to me that I’m safe.
Only, I know that I’m not.
None of us are.
The wolves keep long hours.
And angels are easily distracted.
Photo Sue Demetriou