I haven’t a gun.
I’ve hit no one.
A failure of great proportions,
Emotional extortions,
And mental abortions.
This world is more cold than not.
How is my heart not to willow and rot?
Every word I hear
Each one that passes through my ear,
I can’t help but not to feel fear.
Fear for all of that which I do not have.
The only option is to halve
My soul into two.
Even then it would have been too few.
Oh God, what do I do?
I must find the answer!
And relieve myself of this growing cancer.
“Who are you?” you may ask,
I’ll say nothing, all the talking will be done by my mask.
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 10:59 AM UTC
I haven’t a gun.
I’ve hit no one.
A failure of great proportions,
Emotional extortions,
And mental abortions.
This world is more cold than not.
How is my heart not to willow and rot?
Every word I hear
Each one that passes through my ear,
I can’t help but not to feel fear.
Fear for all of that which I do not have.
The only option is to halve
My soul into two.
Even then it would have been too few.
Oh God, what do I do?
I must find the answer!
And relieve myself of this growing cancer.
“Who are you?” you may ask,
I’ll say nothing, all the talking will be done by my mask.
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