Falling to shadows nowadays, feels like rain on a burn.
I don’t listen to them anymore.
They seem to make me angry for no reason.
I have to remember that I may be the worst of the best, but I’m the best of the worst.
My blood is often cold.
And I know its okay to be mad.
But sometimes better to be mad.
Under my bed is the mystery of life.
I clutch my red gun to my chest.
But red guns can never be fired.