Breaking the bindings of the shadows,

They open up through song .

Passion fills their guttural growls

And rebellion reverberates their raspy screaming,

While the clean vocals roar

With their piercing meanings.

Raw Emotions pour down, soaking me,

As I savor the sweet and salty tang of reality .

 

The lyrics become part of me

And play inside my head.

While I the mental patient

Sits obsessively,

 Scratching and clawing

At the fake bits and  pieces

Of me that still remain.

Like old porcelain doll

With a crackling face,

Paint chipping away with each chord,

Ripped and torn

 from the trenches of the artists souls.

 

Other times they sprout wings,

And like a dream carry me off

Into an abyss of the unknown.

Finally allowing myself to

Just.

Let.

Go.

No restrictions, no rules

No "they" to criticize me,

Only the thundering lyrics leading the way

To my safe escape, in their distinct melodies.

 

Their voices rich and haunting

Like a morticians lullaby,

Give me solace when I sorrow

And comfort when I cry.

They stitch up my wounds

While they're still fresh and bleeding,

Because they recognize life,

And its never ending beatings.

 

Heavy guitars wailing,

And the pounding of the drums.

A rhythm so powerful

I can never get enough.

They sing a sirens song

To which I'm inexplicably drawn,

To crash against the rocky coasts

Of every screamo song.