The sun is reduced to a line of molten ruby across the sky,
Fire, a fence made out of used matches separates me from the mainstream,
Wisps of smoke drifting into the sky, circles of grey, portals into a heaven of flames.
Glorified hell, angels burning like witches, tied to the stake of make-believe sins.
Through the disaster, into the inferno,
Charred skeletons of demons at war with scabbed-wing angels,
Borderline-whatever, the divisions are blurred by the darkness.
The walls of the abyss colapse in flame,
Angels destroyed, demons defined by depression.
These manic days and self-harm nights pass in a haze,
A haze of smoke, I will burn you down.
Atone for the abuse you gave, repent for sins in fire.