I wake up in the mourning with a tear in my eye.
Wondering what would've happened if I were to die.
My hands are soiled, stained with blood of the innocent.
I pick up a weapon when I know I shouldn't.
As I force my body to get up from bed.
I look in the mirror and see a man with a heart that is dead.
I look over my shoulders 24/7.
Knowing if my life ended, I'm not going to Heaven.
When it's time for a job to be done.
I'm always ready but my heart beats like a drum.
Once I see the next person who's life I have to end.
I pull the trigger but happiness is not what this tragedy sends.
So I ask myself, "who am I?" in an empty breath.
I'm an angel, an angel of death.