It was your bullet
he wrenched out
just the other day,
along with much of his pride.
Pouring blood
from his heart
has never looked so red,
he sat down and he cried.
Where does he go?
Who can he find
to fill the gaping void?
To his heart, she was tied.
He patched it up
with nothing more
than transparent tap,e
to which he stared at and sighed.
His booming laughs
and horrid jokes
are evidence of the anguish
that he's attempting to hide.
He tells us things
like he's okay
and he's doing great,
it's so apparent he lied.
Because inside
he hasn't ground up
every thought of you,
although he constantly tried.
You left something
so heavy in his heart
and in his head,
he hoped with the bullet he'd died.
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My Rhyme book
Just stuff I reminise over time the past the present but, never then future
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