I want to start with my insecurities
They have a lot to do with my impurities
A boy that, defines love by the places he's at
I can feel the sweat running down my back
A heart that races to the love of his life
Would discern the cut of a knife
To be with the one that he loves
It's more pure than two white doves
A being that fails to complete its purpose
A phenomenon that, leaves most, wordless
A pair of legs that cannot walk
A tongue, a mouth that cannot talk
Arms that cannot reach
A professor that cannot teach
A chef that provides inedible food
A servant that proves to be rude
A waste of life on his bed
His mind dark, and his hand red
Forgiveness is near
But also is fear
I fear that I may never live to see love
We see, people that would rather be
dead, a question that asks a bullet in the head
A knife in the back, an answer we lack
Broken bones and, broken homes
Crying kids and, rising bids
A silent room, a revolting fume
A walking flower, for just one hour
An eye's meal
Describes this one feel
Gluttony with a slide of hand
Desolate flaming lands
Cold snow in the summer's show
A lost chance of getting to know
A heart that changes color
Is a lot less duller
A weak mind with with a strong sword
If you cut the chord
The lights fade out
And in the dark, here lies doubt
And with this thought one would shout
Too bad no one will hear what he shouts about