The Angel of Light

As i cut an old worn scar
i pray the angels come close to me
the dark, the light
the dim, the bright

slowly i grow sleepy
as they fight i grow weak
surrendering to my awful thought
i wish the dark will win the lot

if i shall grow
the wings of snow
i shall die even more
for i will not deserve that chore

slowly it brightens
then it dims
as the fight
goes to and fro

i slowly wake up
with an I-V
for now i am alive
but i wish to die

the dark almost won
but the light succeeded
and now it will repeat, once again
for the angel of light must not win