|Bullets paint a work of Abstract Expression in Blood
||[Feb. 15th, 2015|07:05 pm]
As bullets break through flesh than bone, and splattered bloods and brain occur.|
You are painted all over our city.
Another child made homeless one bullet at a time.
Starving of desolate warzones and forgotten they all suffer from ptsd.
Ptsd is the natural state of war.
Without hypervigallance and the hundred mile stare your post mortem will soon be written.
It's a saddness that not all will understand.
It chokes you with it's plauge and darkness.
The sun beats down and yet still you choke.
A hanging of a noose they keep killing themselves.
My friends dropping dead night butterflies around a candles flame.
I love you still.
I love you still, and still I will rage.
For the nights are long and wicked, and more so without you.
So I will rage I will rage until the last day against the torments that you suffer.
Know that forever I hunt you, until the end of all days.
Forever I hunt you with all of the rage.
Forever I hunt you with love in my heart.
My victory peace, love and compassion.