That gun was a brush
And the attitude hit home
But the words can't hurt
Like your strapped gun
You feel hurt and scared
When you're the monster here
You pulled us over
And prepared an attack
Of corse you're the victim
You always are
But you shot a child
And now he's gone
But you're on TV
Talking 'bout how he's wrong
No Yes Sir, No Thank you
In reality
They're trembling their the seat
Hand visible, slow movements
You better not speak
That brush was a gun
And you were scared for your life
But when push comes to shove
You're aimed and loaded
Now children are bleeding
And you're the one to blame
But hell you're the victim, right?
You couldn't save his life?
You had to do what you had to do
You were scared.
And somehow that makes it right.
<3
YOU ARE READING
Wild Nightmares Fueled By Anxiety Attacks
PoetryIt's just some poems I come up with. There some if everything; mostly sad, some confused, some mad. It's more of to just write what's on my mind. Some poems are more I need to get it of my chest and other I feel like I need to talk about a problem. ...
