An Angels Transformation Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

There voices come creeping on in.
I can't stop them.
Don't you understand.
They are part of me.

A symphony of the dead.
An army made of soulless minions.
Just begging for a single whisper.
Saying give me order and we move.

There voices come creeping on in.
I can't stop them.
Don't you understand.
They are part of me.

It is not so sick.
It is not so twisted.
I didn't put the hole here to begin with.
Not my rift, what it begs for is to be a gift.
Feeling guilty for denying it.
Stop trying to fight it.

There are as we made them.
Like vampires they have been bitten.
Then totally forgotten.
Left because there considered rotten.
I would know because I'm one of them.
I'm one of them.

Would you even see me if I didn't out right tell you?
Hell no, so eat my middle finger.
Choke on it, swallow it down whole.
I cut it off just for you.

There voices come creeping on in.
I can't stop them.
Don't you understand.
They are part of me.

A symphony of the dead.
An army made of soulless minions.
Just begging for a single whisper.
Saying give me order and we move.

No I'm not confused.
Not a simple hallucination.
But a nightmare of infestation.
Death desire like masturbation.
Corrupting innocent minds.
Manipulating the honest concubines.

Somebody has to make this climb.
If I'm the devil.
Let these be my demon soldiers.
Wearing no colors.
Slaves to no one.
A whisper wander, a shadow walker, stuck between life and death.
Claim themselves on this earth.
Best this gift, best this curse.

Whose fault is it now?
How many have we abandon for the better?
Left to suffer.
What if that was your brother?
Angels transform don't you know?
Just come and see the show.