Literature
Friend, Leader.
There will be no soft sounds this time
no arms, not mine at least
should've expect this, I guess, no “shh” can sooth your beast
and it was my problem once, that violence inside your eyes
bright red and high with death and pie, and rage that never dies
and I used to blame myself, then I blamed everybody else, but never you
cause you were just a messed up kid,
who'd step in it, get scared and sit,
and pray for goats and gods who would know what to forbid
and when you would reach out, well I'd run my big mean mouth and make it worse
And maybe I deserve that hurt,
destruction of my universe,
so if you've gotta beat somebody up don'