across the violent outbreak;
bullets scream the secrets locked in my veins,
and the broken beats of a somber tune
wash along the pitiful, flooding lanes
of blood pouring from a scarred wrist;
the source of ink that's to be printing our names
because we are not alive, my dear,
simply passengers boarding the same train
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
across the violent outbreak;
bullets scream the secrets locked in my veins,
and the broken beats of a somber tune
wash along the pitiful, flooding lanes
of blood pouring from a scarred wrist;
the source of ink that's to be printing our names
because we are not alive, my dear,
simply passengers boarding the same train
a ride we're unlikely to enjoy