Everyone is walking, blood dripping down their wrists
Smiles on their faces and hearts in their fists
Who could say what love is, when there's no soul left on earth
We are all empty shells, looking for our own hole in the dirt
But we must dig it ourselves with ever person we hurt
And until its deep enough, we'll keep on hating ourselves more
Because every breath we expelle is layered with the word 'kill'
There'll always be more to bury, so don't worry about that
But how do you find your grave when every rock is a headstone
YOU ARE READING
Just A Troubled Mind Looking For Peace
PoezjaA collection of lyrically inclined phrases that have popped into my head over the years. ~B.A.L.K Much love. Hard love.
