| Try to feel how i feel...feel how it is to be at the barrel side of the gun. Opposed to your trigger side. I'm marked for termination. Terminate my mind rather then my body. Bullets comprised with A's B's and C's. Hurt the hell out of me. Watch me bleed my heart and my soul as im shot constantly. As my last move of desperation I gasp for air and grab your shirt and dreams of truth and hope. |
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| What's the point of striving for the temporary feeling of content in your life? Is there really a point cause all you do is fuck up later and your back to where your started. You help, you try to help, you can't help but to help. What's the price of corrupting your thought with infectious thoughts of postivitiy? You get smacked with a wet towel. Then soon later tell the story for sympathy, only for you to get laught at and mocked. FUCK THAT. What's the price for believing in yourself and your ideas? You get shoved in the face and told to "shut the fuck up!" The repitition of brutal words of stupidity and the pride for which was the only thing you had brings you to your knees and you run. Where is there to run to? Who is there to nourish? Stuck between everything you want but is unobtainable and the oh so easy life you already live. Afraid to leave with tears down your eyes. You sit and you wait. You wait for the one thing that can save you. Save you from your hell. You wait for the impossible. What do you do? |
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