When first I saw him, I was a young man,
no more than twenty and three.
He said she left me because of my past.
Her future lay not with me.
I asked for salvation, and he replied,
“With me now you must surely stand.”
He gave me a blade that I pressed to my wrist.
His smile said, yes, that’s what I planned.
And even through tears, his true face I could see.
I let the blade fall fast away.
“You are not the Angel, Sir.”
That I did say.
“And so I must bid you good day.”