The irony is amusing,
the despicable, mediocre show,
and I simply cannot resist,
the atrocity of its after-glow.
Encased within a clear glass,
its contents overflow with hate,
and as my soul descends deeper,
I plunge into an opposition of fate.

I ask you to drown me in your sorrows,
and ******* alive,
because I can only ever feel,
when death is right by my side.

Selfishness floats through my veins,
and though I do all of which may not please,
you must pay heed to my warning,
I carry out burdens and anger in peace.

Astounded by how we go into battle,
we do nothing but repeatedly invade,
we feed off of our greed and anger,
and plunge ourselves deeper into blood spills and crusades.
We're urged by our bitter loneliness,
and force our simple consultations,
swirling obliviously and unaware,
of when we'd shackled others through controlled manipulation.

And just as a boomerang snaps back,
our black souls await the penalty,
they say what goes will once come,
but we continue to shoot bullets so relentlessly.
And as we explore the hallways in our ruthless minds,
venture through the deepest depths of our soul,
we will continue to haunt the ones left breathing,
leaving behind no trace of good or gold.