When will it be enough? My whole life, I feel like I've been wearing invisible hand cuffs. Stay perfectly silent, like the "lessons" beaten into me. But it'd be shocking if I was to go on a killing spree. Go through the hit list one by one. I don't know who I'd shoot if I was the one to grab the gun. Aim it through my mouth or through the target's eye. They never would have known that they were going to die. Send them to Santa Muerté, have her send them to hell herself. But just like any wish you could possibly ask for. You know what they say, be careful what you wish for.
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My Side of the Story Vol. I
PoetryInspired by Eminem and Celia Martinez This is my story.