Dear Diary...
Today I killed someone.
I killed them with my bare hands.
"This world," they spoke slowly,
"This world, it's far too bland.
Too bland for someone so lone,
Someone so compassed by fear.
Too bland for someone so scared,
Scared of the masked cheer.
Too bland for someone so quiet,
When all they want is to shout,
Too bland for someone so agile,
When they can't even figure it out.
But when you think about it,
It's really not bland at all.
Because when the world picks me up,
All I do is fall.
So take this hopeless life,
And wash your crimson hands,
But spell my message out,
Five burly letters in the sand.
T-R-U-T-H.
Truth is what they didn't want to hear,
Truth is what they ignored,
Truth is their biggest fear.
But now that it's out,
There's no turning back,
Now that it's out,
They've breathed in what I lack.
So take this hopeless life,
So I can pull the irony of their tears,
So take this hopeless life,
So I can become their biggest fears.
But tell them I'm sorry,
And that this isn't their fault.
Tell them that I'll miss them,
That this is no need for their lives to hault.
You're all I had and now you're gone too,
You're all that's left,
But for some reason this feeling isn't new."
The scene was so familar,
The sirons and flashing lights,
The faces I recognized,
As well as the crying fights.
The fights that it wasn't them,
Not them laying motionless in the strecher they carry out,
The fight that it couldn't possibly be them,
When it was, without a doubt.
And when the light finally shun over the victim of my murder,
It wasn't someone I'd expected to see,
When the light finally shun over,
The victim was...me.
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