Hello Father Of Death Poem by Chris Tiganescu

The angel on my shoulder, an expression I've
heard so often, the light feeling of
purity is scarce. The only feeling is that
of a baggage of cement. Bringing me to
the mud, forcing to be a part of the earth to
return from where i was concieved, the
ground is my mother and so lay 6 feet under
in mothers arms as she welcomes me
to her dirt home. The angel watching
over I, is the angel of death, it beckons
me asking to shake its cold hand, asking
for the soul i do not deserve. Angel of my
life who had been sent from heaven to
guide me in the world of evil now murdered
by the depression of my life story. It's hope
and help is nowhere to be seen. Hello
angel of death may i call you by the name
i had never had the oppurtunity to say...

Hello Father.