yeah, there's a problem, you see this?
yeah, there's some bullshit, you hear this?
yeah, death's comin', you feel this?
bleeding red white and blue, the little shit ran, yelling, " saw the man help me help me please"
what man, you say, what man?
"he had a face full of freedom and a long thick beard made out of scorched dollar bills, no eyes but screens like television screens and he said"
spit it out, spit it out out out, or it'll sit in your guts like crude oil, like fire and lead and ice
"he looked at me and said come closer come here you i think i need you you're one of the sick 313.9 million aren't you and he tried to get me he did with long spindly fingers made out of splintered plastic credit cards and empty bomb casings"
i can't help you, kid, you had this one coming, the horsemen of the apocalypse are looking for you and I can't save you
"please, you gotta"
he's gonna get you and i'll watch and laugh as he tears off your limbs and sucks out the marrow
"no you can't don't do this don't let him get me" too late for that now
welcome to generation dead
-F.T.WillZ
YOU ARE READING
F.T.Willz poems (prolly frank iero no one knows)
Poetryi've scoured the internet for these lol
