semjaza

The angel cried and the blood dried before it even hit the ground. I did not understand why it's tears were blood, so it explained.
"You see things how you need to see them, not necessarily as they are. To you my tears fall like blood. To you that has impact, meaning. If they were not blood they would be meaningless to you, lost on the tides of time, irrelevant as a grain of sand on an endless shore."
I understood then. I was jaded, apathetic. Mere tears, even as a sign of great distress, would no longer effect me. But tears of blood, ah, that would catch and hold my attention. In a world were pain and death was entertainment for the masses, an angels tears held little weight.
(An excerpt).