"Why on earth would he do this?"
Said his mother
She looked at his hands, and his shirt
Washed in red blood
Soaked in lies and ties
To the Devil

"I cant take it anymore."
Said her son
April 12, 1998 was the last
Time he felt
Felt himself
The date was May 9, 2002

"It will be okay son, just tell me what happened"
Whispered his mother
He struggled
The victim also struggled
****** corrupted his mind and tattooed itself to his brain

He wasn't innocent
Not safe from cops
Sirens blare and they have a suspect
No safehouse, just assylum or a fate leading to lethal injection or firing squad

What road will he ride?
"Mom, I did it."
He said

Quite funny how we are expected to be fine
Quiet stupid how some believe us when we say, "i'm fine"
I find it so hard to pretend
None of us are fine
Some are just better at pretending than others
They can shove the **** down to the pit from which it came, and others try to push
But it slips through their fingers and resurfaces
Though there are alternatives and medicines to aid us, but some don't work so essentially, it's all a big game of chance
You are either very ****** up or harldy at all and depending on your being, meds may or may not help
So you are lead to an entrapment of either ******* or lies