Black clouds against a moonlit sky,
the soft saddening sounds,
of a mother who wants to die.

One slit to each wrist,
what a mistake,
for it was in those veins,
she held her own fate.

With her head in her hands,
her blood drops to the floor.
she knows now, the pain she felt
she will feel no more.

One last sigh of relief,
nothing more to be said.
The knife falls to her feet.
The lonesome mother is dead.

-Angel of Darkness-

copyright 2004