The Angel

The white of her silky dress is blowing in the wind, Her blue eyes are glistening with pain, Her silky, rich brown hair hangs by her shoulders, Splattered in blood, The angel stands at the side of the road.

She over looks the road In pure agony, She tries not to hate, She can't, Her soul is about to fade, She must try to smile.

Her smile fades, Who's she fooling? Her face is cut, Her arms are bruised, Who did this to the angel?

She's bleeding, Her white dress is bloodstained, Her feet are trembling, Her lips are quivering, This will be her last site, Her last thought, Her last soul.

The passers-by just stare, They are speechless, Who could be so unmerciful? Who could do such a horrid thing? This was not fair, After all, Is it not a sin to kill an angel?

Is it a sin to cut an angel? Is it a sin to watch an angel die? Will I be punished? Why should I be punished? Has an angel ever helped me?

Who did this to the angel? Who could be so cruel? Who could be so unfair?

It was I.

I killed the angel, I put that cut on the angel's face, I bruised her arms, It was I.

Why should I not make the angel suffer? When it was she who made me, who I am, It was she, who crushed my love, Who brought sadness into my life, It was the angel.

It was she, who killed my mother, Who tortured my father, Who murdered my brother, It was the angel.

Yes, it was she, Do you not believe me? She deserves this misery, This is reality, She put an end to my life, She killed me.

I hate the angel, So I had to kill the angel.

I killed the angel, It was I.