Fools

They were like fools.

Walking airheads that didn't know how cruel the world could really be.

See, they crossed paths with murderers and let them go,

so as to give them a chance.

The benefit of the doubt.

They learned all too late that life wasn't all butterflies and lilies.

They learned all too late that to live, you have to fight.

So they lost battle after battle, until they fell to their knees, and stayed there.

Too strong to pull the trigger, and too weak to stand up again.

They were like me.

Innocent ones that knew the color of blood all too well.

Knew the scent of it like the back of their broken hands.

Like their broken bodies.

Our broken bodies.

We hit ourselves, again and again, too afraid to accept the truth right in front of our eyes.

Until it burned our skin and added to the ever growing scars.

Yet they survived,

and kept alive,

wanting to see the last breath escape their lips,

into a graveyard of forgotten voices.