Rights
Paused
Fights
Lost
All alone
With darkness
Crazy shone
Oh yes
Blood in hand
Knife in heart
Clothing not bland
Eyes throwing darts
I hate my mind
And all its thoughts
I'm definitely not kind
When you hear gunshots
And to think that I,
A small little child thing
Could make anything just die
Without a consequence to bring
I think they're onto me.
And they're going to get me.
Sooner or later I will see.
This is how it's meant to be.
