My MCR poem

I'm lost,
and who better to find me,
than five angels
claiming their innocence of humanity

They sing like the choir
and preach to it as well
anger,angst, and depression
but there is a light in it all

My hands raised high
but I wont be taken alive
A demolition lover
another teenager just trying to survive

These angels come to me in dreams
so vivid,
but when I awaken and they're gone..
I know they're still there, in my CD player, on Mp3 player, in my blood

The only way to get rid of this 'disease',
is to bleed it out
or get it sucked out
by this vampiric society where the truth has no reflection

Bleed the roses dry
Choke on your lies until you're violet
If immortality means I never die
Let MCR be my last breath