Ghost of an Angel

I was born into a world in which I was already dead
with virus and disease attached to my DNA thread.
Murder me slowly, because my day is going to come
when the ghost of an angel will make my body numb.
And the day she arrives, I will know why she came.
I will remember her face and call her by name.
She has known of me and of my many generations
who suffered from the same hereditary complications.
Each life that is born is just a risk higher than before
to the point that birth is just the same as murder anymore.
There’s no longer a hope in escaping the fate I was assigned,
because no matter where I hide, my angel will still find.
If she catches me running, she might not be as nice
as the last time, she turned a life into a cube of ice
and forced me to watch a loved one melt in my hands
like it was some kind of warning to not make future plans.
If I could, I would rip every strand of DNA out
and replace it with love and hope so devout,
so that the futures of me would not suffer the same fate
of the ghost of an angel that comes for those we create.