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Bloody Mess
June 6, 2008
No one knows how I live my life
Always holding a knife
I look at the stars
While I ignore all of my scars.
As I think about this bloody mess
I feel this pain less and less
I watch it like a game
No longer feeling lame.
Each time the knife gets bigger
Then it turns into a trigger
As I lye here with this gun
My hand trembles for some real fun.
The pain is no longer stinging
When the door bell starts ringing
I pull out the gun
And realize that I am done.
Your hand I would caress
If not for this bloody mess.
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