And then I got my shotgun. I polished it pretty. Pretty enough for your face. Which isn't saying much to be honest. And I slowly approached your corner. Your lying thieving corner. The one where you drag everything evil into. The little ones. The big ones. The rich and the poor. They hula hoop for your enjoyment. And then they started noticing I wasn't smiling. Like I used to. Like you used to make me do. No, they started killing those muscles. They started ignoring good manners. I am your moving target, now.
I am your forever moving target-audience. The audience you want to hear applause and praise and send roses through the air. But what you didn't notice is that the curtain didn't fall. And now everyone sees the real you and the bad skin underneath the cheap makeup.
Aren't you an ugly cliché.
A badmouthing, slithering, stinking and ignorant cliché.
You see me coming, you don't question. You know your worst nightmare was going to be a reality - one of these days. You see the steel, the barrel, you see it all from the corner of your eye. The same corner that cornered me into believing. You knew you had it coming like the stock waits to rot.
I don't want you inside my skin anymore. I want to take you out. I tried, but you were too deep inside. I couldn't risk an artery. So I take you down instead.
Like slow motion movies, you're going to look everywhere just to try and calculate how much lives your family will lament. You will try and grab something, just like a normal despicable human being would, even if you know perfectly well who's going to die.
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