That Angel

Rising,
I glare at the traitor.
The one me trusted,
the one who protected me.
 
In the dark of night,
The pale skin,
Glistens in the waning moon.
The black wings,
Blocks out the night sky.
The thin body,
Robed in dread.
A knife at his waist,
Shining dangerously.
 
Rushing at him in anger,
I try to punch him.  
Only for him,
To step aside.
Tears staining my face.
I drop to my knees.
 
He walks pulling the knife,
From the rusted scabbard.
Breathing heavy,
I feel the tip if the knife,
On my bare back.
Cool metal slowly slicing me.
Once,Twice,Three times more.
My arms go numb,
From fighting way to long.
 
Falling forward,
The cold air,
Blowing along my back.
Burning the new wounds.
Standing,
He rolls me over,
The dirt and grit,
Nestles into the fresh wounds.
And shakes his head,
Disappointingly.
I struggle on to my side,
And up to my knees.
 
"Finish me now!"
You screamed,
Barely a whisper.
"Your fault is on your arms"
His silky voice soothed.
"Finish yourself."
Throwing the knife at his feet,
He turned his back.
Grabbing the knife,
Lightly at first,
Then harder and deeper,
I carved down my forearm.
Warm blood,
Falling like fall leaves.
My head spins,
My vision blurs,
I loosen my grip.
And look at the beautiful stars,
One last time.