My angel of death sits on my shoulder.
I await the day, she makes me hold her.
She is like the knife in my back, I can feel but can not see.
Yet in everything I do, I feel her there with me.
Now and again I can hear her whisper in my ear.
As if she is saving me for another time as she warns to steer clear
I tempt her ever so often, just to test my fate.
Patience is her virtue, as she assures me she can wait.
I have some advice for my angel of death to take.
She better hold on tight until I can no longer wake.
She's in for a ride, I might even scare her away.
But she need not worry, she won't be lonely. I am sure I'll see her again one day!
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