Reality of Sarah

i look for the crestfallen demon    
in limbo above wastelands face    
to take his heart and drink its poison    
to kill the voiceless angel in broken grace,    
she torments me with her severed whispers    
to mend her tattered wings with old lies    
for my beautiful rose broke her with endless anger    
seeing only pseudo truth in her vacant eyes.    
   
this angel i only see through the cracks,    
the cracks in reflections on the wall    
and she has a fake smile carved in her face    
with the fruit of vanity that'll bring the fall,    
but how can she fall farther than the bottom?    
the depths of a bottle where demons are born    
molded from fallen angels, but it's her choice of identity    
from the empty glasses that left her torn.    
   
now i see the demon hanging above    
in limbo holding chains of shadows,    
and I'm the servant that found him    
and he'll hang me in the gallows    
to let the reaper take my soul    
like the forest and the rose    
and i'll die by thoughts of suicide    
but that's not the path i chose.    
   
i didn't choose a life of pain and reform    
for nothing but a happy absence    
from the bottles bottom where i reside    
blind from evanescence,    
watching the angel dissipate in the mirror    
as the demon floats down and dies    
merging into the heart stitched in my chest    
and the ashes leave my eyes.    
   
my eyes are cleansed and i see the truth    
the angel's voice was not hers but mine,    
for i was my own tormentor wrapped in illusion    
tearing my sanity by becoming blind;    
and the demon was not my master    
confining me to the bottom of a bottle,    
for these chains where my own    
and the key was inside me within a cradle.