what they call me

January 8, 2011
An outsider would run from me,
the say like hell.
They call me poison,
forgetting my name,
blind to my angels,
scared of my demon front.
They call me infection,
forgetting i scream
as i spread like wildfire.
There's blood on my hands,
but i leave no traces,
running like hell
from their cold metal faces.





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