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david-walkerPoems
Killer emotions about killers killing people while I sing a pretty song about love. I am not the only preacher in the steeple to a God that doesn't reside above. The voices tell me I am powerful. That there are people who deserve to die. The blood tastes sour. Full of disease and monoxide. Can you hear when the fire pops? Can you see when the vein explodes? Can my thoughts border on sublime? Can my voice continue to lie? Struggle Struggle Struggle Struggle Can you hear when the fire pops? Can you see when the vein explodes? Can my thoughts border on sublime? Can my voice continue to lie? Hurt you Hurt you Hurt you Hurt you Stop...
0
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 1:40 PM UTC
No Name #1
Killer emotions about killers killing people while I sing a pretty song about love. I am not the only preacher in the steeple to a God that doesn't reside above. The voices tell me I am powerful. That there are people who deserve to die. The blood tastes sour. Full of disease and monoxide. Can you hear when the fire pops? Can you see when the vein explodes? Can my thoughts border on sublime? Can my voice continue to lie? Struggle Struggle Struggle Struggle Can you hear when the fire pops? Can you see when the vein explodes? Can my thoughts border on sublime? Can my voice continue to lie? Hurt you Hurt you Hurt you Hurt you Stop...
Written by
david-walker
American
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 1:40 PM UTC
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