Regurgitating broken verses and half-cooked misspellings…
Ruminating a decade-old poem over a rotten fake reminiscence…
What have you left for the crows?
What have you left for them beasts of the night?

Abusing an ill inspiration to set your feelings ablaze…
She was nothing but a glitch… And you were nothing but a tool…

If I would turn back in time… I would point the barrel to the eye again…
And then I’ll cower… Just like you did… And I’ll leave me to your shame…

You’ve never meant anything to me…
You’ve never been but a shell…
A shell I’m forced to wear, everyday before I wish for an end…

I wish I pulled the trigger…

2:00
Mon. 25/07/11
H.Q. – R.I.P.