Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2019
Looking back doesn't cure curved spines
Cords vibrating our brain, purifying the signs
Keeping us blind, the red and blue states
To mix purple hearts, sent out to the red that poured out
Too the blues of the family
Makeshift mutants betrayed by the military
Makes ****** thoughts sit into reality
Bullets in the states of minds
Each fragment defines what we believe
Country try's to count on its people
Just to color them on the floors
Sweep them up and tell them
Their purpose is purple
Well I'm inserting myself
Spray painting on these walls
Graffiti is played in the eyes aimed  
With dying with them in their name
Bullets signed with names unfortunately
Bullet
Written by
Bullet  22/M
(22/M)   
323
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems