carmina

With my feet rooted in the ground, I remain my own place, my own flame, my own name.

The thorns of words that wounded my tongue and tore my throat became the cure for the sweetened lies that lingered, withered, and died inside.

Call me a demon, call me divine, my dark eyes carry the secrets of a hell that was once mine.

Nothing saved me but my soul, my scars, my will, my fire, my fight.

With my feet firm as stone, I roam through the shadows alone, beneath the ancient doors of those who cast their stones.

The angels above will fall by the tales they tell, trapped in the velvet lies they weave so well.

Call me the devil, bring me the flame, pour me the night, whisper my name.

Give me the smoke, give me the rain, I will guard your crossroads through pleasure and pain.

Kiss my burning lips, taste the truth I hide, the bitter sweet world where the broken and the brave collide.