Fists on the wall, blood on the victim.

Bruises on my skin, open wounds.

Shining light, crimson trickling.

Thought you were my life.

Proving you wrong like;

“Now taste my knife.”

Metal down your throat,

Laughing at the irony.

Love the way you croak;

“I still love you.”

Grabbing the guns, cocking.

Watching this exorcise.

Souls start screaming,

Ain’t no compromise.

Watching the tick and the turn.

Bullet rounds, skipping steps.

Making your stomach churn.

Hopscotch, hit the concrete.

Your skull busted and bloody.

Pieces scattered, cleaning lady.

“Please don’t get it on my hoodie.”

Hitting the guns, bullets fly.

Blades sharpened, trapped.

No, won’t get caught with it; sly.

Cold and frozen flesh.

Hangs in my basement.

Quiet! Be quiet! “Hush.”

Ripping your eyes out.

“Now be free, my love.”

This ain’t for no clout.

It’s a game of sport!

Ah, what fun it is, darling.

End the game and hit the port.