Bullets

  He was a gentle child who started off so well

But what he would become nobody could tell

Day in day out he heard about how he was no good

But still he tried although denied to do the things he should

Bullets, bullets, messengers of pent up rage

Bullets, bullets, neuro-chemically deranged

Bullets, bullets, the only language he could speak

Small problems seemed immense his surroundings felt so tense

No place in life that he could find where he could feel content

 Felt invisible and weak but wanted to be strong

Wanted to show everyone where he thought they belonged

All around it seemed that others had it all

And all he’d think about was how hard they’d fall

First he lost his way then he lost his mind

Now he’s lost everything he hoped he’d ever find

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