I haven’t a gun. I’ve hit no one. A failure of great proportions, Emotional extortions, And mental abortions.
This world is more cold than not. How is my heart not to willow and rot? Every word I hear Each one that passes through my ear, I can’t help but not to feel fear.
Fear for all of that which I do not have. The only option is to halve My soul into two. Even then it would have been too few. Oh God, what do I do?
I must find the answer! And relieve myself of this growing cancer. “Who are you?” you may ask, I’ll say nothing, all the talking will be done by my mask.