All of this just might be the same
Regardless this is quite the feeling
Of being insane
And when the day arrives
Where all my poems are dead
And I’ve decided to use words
To **** myself instead
Drowned out in black and white
Laced with colors brought about
By your imaginations
Where you can taste
What’s exactly inside my head
Both in hell and maybe even heaven
Where we’ve lost control
Of our not so holy souls