This lead vest is hard to breathe in, and theres to much blood in the air.  I can't figure what went wrong here, the x-rays seem to leave negative space on white paper floors.  A guilt of one mans atrocity, transfixes the colors in his brain.  The veins like puppet-works control and define.  The master has no rights, left them all to vacancy inside.  

Walking over what lies only in half of his life.  The other side never made a move, its to afraid to die.  Paused and unfixed, he waits for the moment of peace to fall behind. Far ahead of another mans decision, breaks fatal pieces of reality.  Can time really take what has no life or dignity.  Crumbled footsteps sick of fantasy, leaves through glass that brings forth everything that will last.  

Comfort for the man, that really could never laugh. For his lead chest is to hard to breathe in while he fills with a repulsive vigor.  And all problems are left as a sliver.