A girl, a teenager, in armor,
Rode into the dark of the world,
Into the mud and pain of battle,
And was an angel in this world.
And I sit, in a small park, trembling,
Overcome with fear and sorrows,
At what will come, and what I’ve done,
And what I’m afraid I may truly be.
I walk in a falling evening, in falling cold,
To where her statue stands, in gilt and metal,
And look upon her, and wish I was always her,
Always free in purity and light.
Will she forgive me? Will she let me in?