BULLET RIDDLED WITH GUILT
Burning inside of me are painful pictures
besieging my very existence. It was me. I cannot deny
blood was shed by my hands, but I try to find
blissful things in theory; only in theory.
But such theories mean nothing for I shoulder
burdens of a horrible crime I cannot remember. It was me.
Blood soaks upon my former whiteness as I hear
ballistic fingers screaming like a thousand gunshots,
blaming me for something I already accept. It was me.
Blaming me still, more fingers sneak through my special
barricade. It was me. It was me. I wish to silence those
ballistic fingers. I know the truth. It was me. I'll hide forever. Please don't
blame me for something I already blame myself for. It was me.
A dummy serves to take the pain
So she carries her single bane.
Her happy dreams die from assault.
She knows the truth. &