An angel sits upon a rock,
Staring at the ground,
Wondering where am I supposed to be,
Wondering would I be found,
Her wings as black as ebony,
Her skin as pale as snow,
With bright pink scars on both her wrists,
A sliver dagger in her hands,
She takes the blade to her throat to end her misery,
She slides it across,
A thick red line appears,
She falls to the ground,
A pool surrounds her,
Soaking her already dark robes,
She draws her last breath,
Utters I love him,
And leaves this world for good.