its a poison, its a drug.
something that always returns.
regardless of how you dispose it.
moaning as i chuck it behind again...
it bites, it rips, it tears apart.
bit by bit...it snaps at your soul.
with every word stinging like acid.
wincing as it takes another chunk off...
resist it, fight back.
oh wait...you can't.
you've got nothing left to fight with.
no target to shoot at...
no guns or roses.
no words or proses.
nothing that would stand a chance.
it just doesn't matter...
like words falling on deaf ears...
twistedshaft
31/07/08
shouting while firing blanks. when will they have their chance?
