You can always rinse the surface; but the stain will remain.

The cursed and the broken,
the unspoken and refused.
If hate is what's inside us, then hate is what defines us.
And when we use our hate to drive us,
we are the ******.

Love is lost like words.
You let the blood tell the truth; expulsion of remnants of your old self.

Innocence lost, with your conscience.

You look for destruction,
things that will surely **** you,
sooner
           than
later.