oh, what i am to do
when there is no demon
to place the blame
of my disgrace upon?
no, there is only me
and my corrupt heart
a depraved mind
two bloodied hands
eyes that wander for vices
a mouth speaking curses
and feet that run to folly
to take the blame
i point a gun at my enemy
and pull the trigger
only to see through the smoking barrel
the broken corpse of me
i put a blade in the back of my foe
only to feel the knife in my own
as i turn in shock to see
the smiling face of me
because there are days
where nothing would be sweeter
than to place myself
this moldy
muddy
mildewed monster
six feet below the ground
where things that are lifeless belong
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