There’s no light on

the horizon, friend.

Those bastards saw

right through me...

Then turn to ask why

I’m so fucking divided.

They’ll mull it over,

I’ll put myself back together.

I always do.

It’s fucked the way they

treat their muses.

I tried telling them

I’m not amused.

They didn’t get it.

They never do.

Such humor is wasted upon them. Laughing is my only friend.

They’ll ink their propaganda

with the foul tar I have for blood -

only saying what I’ve held

inside all along- all alone.

Obey.

They write a message

and the masses will eat

from their palms as they

guide them to the pit.

Like the good little obedient

dogs they’ve become.

I wish things could be

different and that one

day I could go home.

I know that home

is no more - torn apart

by those wretched things

that I’ve created.

I can’t wait to watch that

shit they call a sky

shatter when they

realize…

that blood isn’t mine.