these words you read dont come from my fingers or my mind
they were born from the battle scars that collected over time
this isnt even a poem or a rhyme
my key board is made of blood and tears and thats fine
i wouldnt have cleaned up the mess even if i hadnt been so blind
but now my sight is back and better then ever
now i relize its red.
not bad weather
but blood
leaking through the ceilings by the ton
i looked up and i had to run
i ran like no other, ran like a chase
i knew i was running from the truth in the first place
how could i hide from it
the battle scars were engraved in my face
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