Sometimes I’m torn between
the light side of my soul,
and the dark place in my brain.
People say you have to pick a side,
you can’t stand in between.
And if I’m caught in the crossfire,
it’s better than tearing myself apart.
Pitting one side of me against the other.
Because the demon whispers lullabies
While the angel whispers doubts.
I’d like to think I’m quick to catch the lies
in the net of truths shouted at me,
collecting in the space behind my eyes.
Sometimes my finger slips
and I pull the trigger, but little did I
know the gun was pointed the wrong
way, so now I have a bullet between my
eyes, aiming at the dark part of me.
But the angel side decides that
maybe I’m not ready to die.
I pinned a rose to the face of the
side that died when I thought it was
wise to try and take my own life.
Because the demon in me promised
me a truth that was consisted of lies.
And my heart is empty, with a blood
red lipstick stain on my cheek. And the
demon in me says that it’s not my
responsibility, but how could I not know
that while I was keeping the light behind
a cage, the dark was roaming free.
My nail was painted white when I held
the muzzle to my cheek. And I aimed to
**** the bad part of me, but the angel shot
an arrow at his brother and changed his
mind before I had time to change mine.
An angel killed an angel, in a moment
of fear and shame. I fed the wolf too much
rotten meat. I corrupted the light in me,
running too fast to keep up, and I
missed the black spots swimming in
my head. The Devil kissed my lips
while I was sleeping, and the angel
drank the poison to save me the agony.
I let the light swallow the dark only
to turn into the poison meant to **** me.
And now I peel the petals of the rose
bestowed to me by God, only to
see the body of the angle laying
dead in the center, pollen coating
its skin as it sleeps eternally.
Just like the better part of me.