I need a place to release this angst,
without harming a soul,
without reloading this gun.
If I had one.

Dying the whole day
bleeding, without earphones to pull,
with angry pulse beating like hell
Kept words keeping my cool.

Enduring sick people
overshadowing my pride and ego,
over thinking the moment
between staying and letting go.

Between satisfaction and odds
you did not ever imagined,
Called all the demons
stuck and still, doing nothing but aging.

Tired of this junkyard
cannons are waiting to be lit,
now enter explicit thoughts
biting teeth and hideous grit