To perfect for Earth [one of my poems]

I kind of just felt like writing a poetic story about death or dying...so here 'ya go!
(This one is kind of fun to read aloud if you use your voice to give the right effects...so yeah)

I grasped the gold, bold stained
Knife
So tightly in my hand

My fingers turned
White
As did my face

I looked down, her
beautiful
eyes looking up at me, terrified

"If I can't have you" I told her
Hushing
my voice calmingly

"Then no one except the angles above can and even the
Angles
Will kill you, for your beauty is for complete perfection to be jealous of you"

You are the vision of
Perfection
and still, I am the only one to notice

For, if someone else had, you my dearie would already be
Dead
Yes, you would indeed

Don't fear it. All the
Pains
that your beautiful self have had to suffer will be no more

Now, just close your stunning
Eyes
and count to ten, and I will put you out of your misery.

"No, don't!" The beauty cried,
Thinking
That was her mistake

She thought to much for her own
Good
She started screaming

"This can happen the easy way or hard way" I
attempted
to comfort her, but knowing I would get my way

"No, my family! Who are you? Why are you doing this?!" She
screamed
A person of your beauty is to perfect for the imperfections of this world

You should not have to be down here, but in
Heaven
so that the mighty angles can serve you

And attend to your every
whim
I only thought this, not wanting to say more than necessary, then muttered to her "Count to ten"

She closed her eyes, but did not count. She did not
scream
She simply prayed

That night was not her
Last
But was the end for another

Me. That night the
Fire
of heaven came and punished me

Or so they
Claimed
But I know I was right

Or else
Why
Would I have been able to come back from the grave?

Why else would I have been
allowed
To come back to stop something to perfect for earth?