Foggy Glass Wall


Its always pretty quiet
And still
A thin sheet of foggy glass
Distortions of my hearing
My view
My acquaintance relationships

In reality i am standing
Standing while watching
Someone else become distorted as well
By a common conscienceless demond

Now is it wrong that in my head
I am holding a machine gun
Shooting the glass
Shattering my eardrums
Along with the demond's head

Watching the the blood splatter against The walls we just scrubed
Because his hatred
Lights a flame in my heart
That burns it till its black

Your hatred has destroyed my compasion for The compansionless
You are so lucky that my glass wall is Bullet proof

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