I am surrounded by a heavily massed army of syringes,
Syringes that pierce my soul, and inject it with the fluid of hatred
Syringes that take from my soul leaving black wholes with in me that swallow up the massive attack of the masses.
Oh you strange syringe, why tempt me into your malice, in hopes that I will grab it, reaching the idiopathic havoc that is sanely insane within my mind.
Oh syringes the pain you cause me, do you not see? You inject me with hatred, but do not expect to be hated, how dare you, oh foolish, and foul syringes that leaves blood dripping from mine own eyes
And I stand in a puddle of tears, in hopes to see the reflection of my sorrow
I see my reflection, but what I see is not me, what I see is dark and cold blooded, could it be really me? How do I save my self from such pain?