I can read the eyes of my friends. this is the story they tell…I love to hurt you.
You cause this better reflection in my eyes.
To my suprise, you dont see the gun behind my back.
Waiting to hurt you in your darkest hour.
Didnt you see the note beside your bed?
Saying how I want to remove your head.
Just to see if your stories come out.
Cant you see, your all thats left of my atrocity.
Now turn around, get on your knees.
Pray to be free, cause this bullet has found a new home, Deep inside your mind.
Now the only story these eyes tell is that of dread.
Look into the rotten eyes, see the lies that form your body.
See blood that runs through your veins.
All I see is the rain, coming down like razors.
A chronic inner feeling of being chained down to the very skin that keeps you here.
All that I taste is the fear that you bleed.
Ill take these cold hand and wrap them around your neck.
Laying against you so I can feel your warmth.
Led by misfortune, held back by fate, abandond by good, welcomed by evil.
We will all see this life end.
So take a stand. Wear white for your friends funeral.
He is much happier burning in Hell, than he was living up here.

This poem was written/submitted by Chris Louer.