Why I'm The Real Angel

 

I've been normal once, then quick My mind became strange

Obscure and insecure.. Looking back upon each word that i uttered

repeating my whole life to my face in the mirror,

Phrase after phrase, I recall all those decadent days.

Stars overhead

I remember the heavens displayed, but in a sudden moment

You'd be surprised how quickly life can just change, from

a simple little question, and an imagination, with the will to create

 

I write so damn much, because the words ooze from my brain.

if i can't get it out.. I feel the sudden ache of my thoughts which suffocate.

So i find money to waste every morning i wake. To inebriate

My troubled thoughts engrained from my memory..

It goes back to days i shouldn't remember, In the crib as a baby.

hearing my Dad breathing heavy.. Watching Toys by themselves

scoot past the dark hallway and I even can remember

asking myself in my head.. If this was real, Or was I so young i could

force myself mind to start to hallucinate in any way that would

keep me entertained.

 

So i write the book that is constantly erased. Countless names written

down, but i never feel a single unfinished story goes to waste. I began

writing and describing the pictures i see. My vocabulary seems

repetitive, But i have such a broad spectrum, from reading the dictionary

or practicing words when i was at the creek to roam and play.

 

Words.. Oh these words such a curse.. To dispurse every thought that i have

in such a figurative way... Poetics portray A mind that has written

with literature before I could even reach the stove

and all alone to cook eggs.

 

It's a crippling process, These stories overwhelming.

I obsess of my death til my voice and my brain begin Melting

dispelling and fighting, but only narotics will help me.

because my mind goes beyond boundries of my lips every telling

that the myths that you think are just something on T.V.

perhaps -Psychics and monsters and Devils and Vampires

were actually a very real thing, described on the tube

in a metaphorical meaning that is decieving the under age

and brainwashed mind yet in some sense i find all these

cryptic puzzles releiving, Something about my lifes

little secret mystery

Has kept me from ending this virtual setting.

No one can help me.. Because i'm not human like you. I'm the Angel of

Death, The Cursed one the real thing. Damned to live forever..

and I've tasted blood of others out of a strange and weird desire

that got me higher then any drug i've ever done in this life..

Don't go over a pint.. or the crimson will enslave you to become

a beast beyond anyones controlling abnormally

blood spilling and remains in my memories of the tingling feeling

or how I woke up and dropped onto my bed, and I still wonder if I had

dreamt it or had i really woke up, floating with my nose gently touching

the texture of my childhood homes cieling. To not know i suppose

is the beautiful part of the little secret of my life.. The mystery

thats out of arms reach beyond me.. But i Am the Angel of Death

I am the Real thing, To weep in my sleep until the ending for God to come

take me. My suffering knows not an end, Because there is in fact

something they all know, that i feel the world has concealed from me

since i put the barrel in my mouth, and pulled the trigger, and didn't feel

a damn thing, Woke up and i was crying.. Alone in a room.. I was just

three but who in the hell was me?

 

I've been running my whole life.. and don't know even the reason

I'm always running. It's not concious, its automatic..

When i get the urge to go see strange things that happen.. When nobodies

looking. Some things that've I've seen, have shook me, and some almost

destroyed me, but are so intriquitely designed

That no matter how i explain it.. I am unable to prove to the world

absolutey anything, But i know my eyes have never lied to me

I'm the Hopeless that keeps hoping.. but this mortal body is the only

thing that hates me.. Because everything i touch, begins to rot from the smoke

But i cannot survive in this world with out something to numb me

because the secret is hidden and the smitten, Vampire necks that i've bitten

Once life was lovely.. but graphic deaths I have seen.. and people

have probably died because I was a great mind that said things, i never

meant saying. When i lie.. its the truth told in the guide of a rouge..

To communicate in a decoy language so that way the ones that follow

and hunt me.. will never collect me and never corrupt me.

 

For We are all nothing, but together we become something. Darkness

and light cannot exist with out the other,

and we are seperated and divided by greed lust and materal things.

Never thought that we'd all end up being crucified over empty black

holes that just can't consume enough money, stained with blood from

the murderous cutting and shootings and stabbings, that these

people have died, because i have a violent mind.

And i'm addictive like fucking hardcore Drugs. So don't fuck with me

Just run away as far as you can from me. Don't love me and don't touch me,.

I am the angel of death. I am the real thing that hears voices

of devils and angels, But god is the only one

Who doesn't say a word to me, Instead he shows me my path

and i follow my faith more blindly than christians who have hunted me down

and continuously killed me because they are the ones who created the lie

and made good people bleed, to seek out the fountain of youth

and drink the blood that pours from me. They want to rape me and fuck me

 

Sending out the armies of darkness, and Father time is the kingpin

of this whole crazy dream, where we suffer and needlessly bleed

in the name of stones, and pearls and greed. Thinking that a human life

was less valuable than something shiny we see, But the seroquil seed

is the voices i hear when i tripped

on the diphenhydramine benadryl overdose, back to the bed

But to bad when i opened my eyes

there was no one even there. Not a soul in sight.. So who was talking to me

and how does a psychopath bleed, if he violently swings

and his disguise is removed when he donates blood

unaware he's the son of the universes King. The Stories too long to tell you

I can't prove to you a single god damned thing.. My name is Cain, i let the

earth taste the veins.. Of my brother Abel i slayed..

Now no one can Kill me.. and this is the first life that i've lived that i aged

beyond being a teen.

 

What does life mean.. We live to die.. Because you have to die to be free

Angels exist, But the christians are evil. God Protects me..

The one who gave life to me..

Not the God i created. But the Creator of me.. I am Divinities speech..

The Prophet to stand against every fucking lie you believe.