Your words pointed at humaity like a hand gun.
Loaded with excuses, we had no choice, but to run.
The pitter-patter of what has not yet arrived.
You had the audacity to bark words into our minds, making us sleep deprived.
You uploaded viruses into all things beauty.
Haunted houses were not as spooky, as you.
You coloured outside to line,
To hide the blood stains and cover up your own reflection. Isn't that fine?
You collect tears,
Creating more fears,
We try creating you into "just a story",
But you'll create nightmares, your glory.
You smudge out true love,
Giving us a shove.
A shove we can't handle.
You blow out all the candles,
Making darkness swirl throughout our bodies.
We wear Poppies
For what you have done.
You pointed a real hand gun.
You're slowly going to conquer this world.
You are a Monster.
