Deathly Cold, And My Angel Of Mercy (Formerly Known As Shades Of The Past) Poem by M.A. Wood

How can my face turn away the shadows,
How can my face turn away the beasts,
The phantoms,
The shades of the past set before me,
All flee like children,

How do I deserve this deathly cold upon my door step,
For though you stand there upon the night,
The cold surrounds me,
A deathly shroud of black,

Your all i need to destroy that deathly cold,
This fateful love in which we share,
Can be our shield against the cold,
I'll be your dagger,
If you be my cloak,
A shield for me,
Is a love to you.

So my angel of mercy,
Do you hold the future?
Or the past?
Or maybe the present,
Which though weaker,
Holds the most strength.