Maybe it's a song. Maybe it's a poem. Maybe it's just a fragment of my twisted mind replicated somehow onto a peice of notebook paper, somehow managing to be typed up later and posted. Maybe they were lying, the ones that said they liked it. Maybe the smiles were fake. Maybe I'm paranoid. But here it is, anyway.

-Ely's Rose

Kiss the angels' solemn wings
burdened by your tears
slay the demons creeping softly
and screaming in your ears.

Shy away from darkest midnight
curse the burning sun
cut your wrists for the victims
that never hurt anyone.

Sing out your anger loud and clear
Whisper of your sin
save the flowers from being crushed
celebrate the skin you're in.

Drink the liquid fire that burns
inside the Earth
eat the flesh of newborn
roses
and dance inside your mirth.

Fight the shadows crowding you
shine out of your dark shell
run across the broken bridge
of souls too cheap to sell.

Kiss the angels' wings.
Kiss the blood that streams from your wrists.
Kiss the flowers that you saved.
Kiss the liquid fire.
Kiss the newborn roses.
Kiss your dark shell.
Kiss the souls too cheap to sell.
Kiss the angel's wings.
Fly.