A pretty face, a smile, behind those beautiful eyes. That see the world, in a blood stained beauty. Red, and more of it. Sprewing across, crawling along, running down. It is natural, but it is forced. Out of you, into another. Hatred, anger? For what? For the rewards of viscous fluid, that sticks onto flesh, like a falcon in a blue sky? Your decison, hast cost. Your roars, and his unheard screams have hurt the ear of the one that has chosen to hear, on the one, on whom silence is forced and on the one that has forced it upon himself.
That boy, his screams are heard now. With every bullet that leaves him, with every cry that reaches his ear, every sound he ever made is heard. For, that is all that left him. Cries. His smile to your eyes, was a bite. It was gentle, it soothed, it comforted. It was beautiful. To her eyes, and to the thousands that watched day turn into night, but to you, it was poison.
To you, your eyes burnt. He was your blood, your own. You ran in his streams, calm, boiled, but it was you, all along. The world speaks of him. Your creation, your terror, in my mind. Is this what you wanted? A monster, that has unleashed in others the monster that was hidden? That gun recoils once more, releasing onto his shoulder, a pain and a comfort. From all that you have made him carry upon his young shoulders.
He smiles, for he is not afraid in your absence. He smiles, and a pretty face, a smile, behind those beautful eyes, is lost.
That boy, his screams are heard now. With every bullet that leaves him, with every cry that reaches his ear, every sound he ever made is heard. For, that is all that left him. Cries. His smile to your eyes, was a bite. It was gentle, it soothed, it comforted. It was beautiful. To her eyes, and to the thousands that watched day turn into night, but to you, it was poison.
To you, your eyes burnt. He was your blood, your own. You ran in his streams, calm, boiled, but it was you, all along. The world speaks of him. Your creation, your terror, in my mind. Is this what you wanted? A monster, that has unleashed in others the monster that was hidden? That gun recoils once more, releasing onto his shoulder, a pain and a comfort. From all that you have made him carry upon his young shoulders.
He smiles, for he is not afraid in your absence. He smiles, and a pretty face, a smile, behind those beautful eyes, is lost.
No comments:
Post a Comment