This stain won’t ever come out;
once it sets, there’s no hope.
One second it wasn’t there,
then the next it was
like one second you were
and now you’re not.
That soul will never return;
once that light dies, there’s no hope.
Thoughts and prayers,
vacant stares,
tears enough to fill
the drying seas
and
still
no
hope.
This hate will never end;
once it sets, there’s no hope.
How could you look her in the eyes?
How were you prepared to die?
How did you find the strength
to pull it?
The answer is clear
hate is alive;
the proof is in the bullet.
Autumn Siders 