these exigent desires sparked my downfall

. i guess you could say i was a piece in the wrong game

Killer modern weaponry is far too simple pull the trigger and a bullet flies out implanting itself in the bullseye it whips through the air, gliding and soaring the cause for a clean and quick kill but clean and quick is no fun at all I prefer the sword over the gun gripping onto the familiar handle detailed engravings blanketing its surface and when the sunlight bounces off of the blade shimmering and shining and beautiful and when you sweep in for the kill though quick it might be, clean it is not I love the sight of the crimson on the blade dripping, trailing over the perfect silver staining it red, serving as a reminder that I am a killer.

The Lamb & The Knife who is the lamb? my friend, that is you. you’re the gentle one the quiet one the one who cowers in fear. who is the knife? sadly, that is me, the one with the lost innocence.

Nothing shattered fragments are scattered everywhere, and my face is reflected on each and every one. it’s as if everything fell to pieces right before my very eyes and there’s absolutely nothing i can do but stand and stare. i’m helpless as everything falls apart as the jagged pieces glide across my pale skin as everything once perfect breaks. there’s nothing i can do to fix it nothing i can do nothing i can do.