Roses and Razor Blades

Sometimes we're sacrificed to rooms void of light to the caw of the crow and the scent of the night Silk of the mind, breeched by snakes -chains of cold moment by moment they peck away at the soul. Roses and razor blades strewn on the ground gifts have been given to help figure it all out There are dark entities sent to devour you and angels commissioned to buffer the blue. Blessed light poking through blackening veins cherish warmth like drought does a cool rain. Take your sledgehammer soul shatter the shroud it may take a few blows, but it'll surely come down. Gather up the roses leave the razors behind pay homage to angels-step gently into the light harvest sweet honey from the silenced hive embracing the grace of birdsong-shinning on.