this always seems to end
unraveled in reason
it seemed to me...
like every other treason
forced to breath germs
i ****ing exhale fever
lack the faith but still i shake
in the retreating shade
of a true believer
and still it seems
pierced at the gill
bent of my will
i'll whisper
sweet nothings
to supposed something
smiling like a bullet
i am a trigger
****ing pull it
i am the lamb.
point me to the slaughter.