I have no love song to sing.
No sweet soliloquy to recite
Underneath the stars.
I’m sick with a disease that has no cure.
My heart barely beats,
As the confusion of what justice is
Proves to be a consistent strain.
I feel as if a single bullet aimed for my heart,
And pierced it multiple times.
A single body is housing multiple deaths and heartache.
As I drew my last breath,
I whispered a little prayer,
And ascended upon a higher path.
I have no love song to sing tonight.
Only a puddle full of tears and blood.