Lies are told more often than truth.
A good woman can drive you to ******,
And she won’t even blink.

I never looked at their empty faces.
I kept my breath rancid to detour people walking by,
and insulted the few people that stuck around.

Why the hell would they possibly care about me?

After the day is over I’ll lock myself up in a dingy room.
In there no phones television or anybody else could bother me.
I’ll let my guard down for a few hours before going to work.

Then I’m back at the slaughterhouse.

Being alive is just a stale convoluted joke,
but I’m still laughing at it.

We giggled at our ridiculous pet names.
I was the first person that you ever exposed your body to.
Both of us dreamed about a bright future together.

Neither of us ever knew what a father was.

We knew each other like we were the same person.
Sharing Laughter and tears with you was natural as breathing.
I trusted you enough that I left myself become vulnerable,
and I even loved you enough to finally let you go.

In the end my heart and my will was finally broken.

You told me that I just wasn’t “affectionate enough”.

The walnut stock had several light nicks,
and a few rust spots were sprinkled the barrel.
It was old but still functioned flawlessly.

Time didn’t degrade the accuracy very much.
For many seasons it took game without a single failure.
The sons of three different generations knew the rifle well.

It got sold to a pawnshop for one hundred and fifty bucks to buy some ****.

She was lost and couldn’t find herself,
and none of her empty words could hide it.
Just a typical ****** plain and simple.

She died alone on the road at twenty eight,
but everybody saw that end coming.

In a tragic twist of good luck her son never knew her.
Although a part of him had always secretly wanted to.

Those years without a mother’s warmth was a pure frigid hell.