Untitled Scribble

- 16 rounds, two arrows, 3 broken bottles/
- Stuck in my body, gasping for breath, am trying to move my torso/
- My life flashes before me, pure innocence/
- Its all I ooze, as the oxygen slips out, I lose defense/

- Death sharpens its knife and fork/
- I envision different colors as they collide, and mix like bike-wheel spokes/
- My life eternally flashes as I bleed my list bit of carbon/
- Tears roll down my face because am torn/

- Not by the bullets, but my life, the one I wasted/
- Living for the world, and true happiness I never tasted/
- Perhaps a percent, only when I saw my sisters sons/
- CJ and David, the ones my world spun around/

- The females I had touched and broken/
- And those that had broken me because they softened/
- The life pump in my chest and I still hurt/
- Carrying their demons or spirits in my head/

- I recall genuinely searching for happiness/
- I never got it, I always ended up in a mess/
- From the ignored texts msgs to the lonely nights/
- Counting stars and fantasizing every other night/

- What was wrong with me I questioned/
- I was smart, handsome, godly figure perfectly sectioned/
- My courage, the words in my mouth, need I mention/
- But the douch bags got it done with no rejection/

- The good guy trapped, in a maze of sorrow/
- Locked in a dark corner, weeping for tomorrow/
- Cuddled with myself, covered by my black wings/
- Wept blood, and what slipped through my fingers, burnt the ground, I couldn't see/

- Good guys get left behind for a fact/
- They get the crumbs off the tables in fact/
- They feel, they aint good enough for her or anybody/
- They eat excuses, painful nights, and despise their bodies/

- As I die from all those injuries, I realize I should have been a good guy/
- And not changed to get accepted by telling all those lies/
- One chance at life and I'd change the ways of my life/
- What's life's worth, if its painless, right?/

- Death knows no excuses so it rushes over/
- Fork and Knife out and its all over/
- My throat slit, am a meal, and my blood Is the gravy/
- Toe nails are desert, meals are hard - maybe/....