Even the mightiest fall,
their hands positioned to draw,
the gun that will take their life,
going with only an internal fight.

Us fallen,
we do just that.
We don't always ask for a second chance.
Some of us make a choice to get back up,
others would die than be stuck in a rut.

They're hidden,
emotions bidden,
to go away,
to die in the fray,
of which is our existence.
Tattered and torn,
hearts are completely worn.
Forsworn.



Flower petals fall upon the ground,
colors swirling all around.
We begin to wonder if we'll ever be found.
Ground.
Into the dirt.
Nobody cares when we are hurt.
It doesn't matter that we care for you more than ourselves,
we're always burnt.
Ground.
Into the dirt.