Words Of A Mircale

Answer

I know,
From a phone call to a fatal fall,
Which one's to blame?
Whether it be an exploding device,
Or a shotgun leaving you in pain,
Whether you walk around like zombies with your half exposed brain,
Should I really know the answer?
Should I really take the blame?
I know every human's pain isn't really the same,
Only similarity is all that's given are takes,
Take away life,
Take away passion,
Take away love,
All these takeaways, but can't take away the things that hurt the most,
Can't take away the stuff that leaves my heart bound to burst,
Like we're all given life and pain is just the curse,
Even there for you more than the closest person to you,
It chases you down more than the crazy person who pursues you,
But I pick up the phone every single time,
And *bang* a shot is fired,
*bang* a crime's transpired,
*bang* they can't stand up,
*bang* they gives up,
*ba-* A ripple in time,
This is how we see our very own life,
Repeated shots and it depends on the person,
For if they will or won't stand up,
The world's slowing down but its picking back up,
*life* slowly they get up,
*life* they're stopping all the blood,
*life* they look the shots in the eye,
And next thing they know is they're looking up at the sky,
How did I get here?
I know from point A to B,
I was looking for C, but instead I found fear,
Knowing that the end is surely near,
Everything is really sad,
The people are really mad,
All you do is wrong,
No matter what happens, Stay strong?
Is that the way to do it?
Just to bare through it,
Just to feel the tremendous pressure against you,
To try and push through it,
Forgetting all the pain you suffered,
Letting it all go to waist,
Fighting a battle saying it's more than just race,
It's more than just the place where I answer the phone,
Waiting for a call,
Waiting for a...call?
Is that what I was waiting for?
A simple knock on the door,
I can never reach the knob, cause I'm always on the floor.