I've been counting minutes
Like hours
Holding my breath as seconds
Dissect of the clock
Like Jack
Or some delicate emo bitch with a blade

I can barely recognize its face anymore
Or the concept..

And from a mild panic
I remember something from the
Bible...
Talking about the sins of the father
and how they are reflected on the son

I'm beginning to wonder
If there isn't some merit to that
Because sometimes
I feel like I'm the one walking around
With a hole in my chest...

Soft hands clenched
Around the cold end of a shotgun barrel
One foot resting on either side
Of the stick pressed firmly against the trigger
Kicking and kicking

But the shot never goes off..

I've never denied my sire
Or been ashamed of where I came from
But still I'm haunted
Literally..

And the pounds of flesh I've taken
Don't add up to a heart
Or the damage done
By my would-be brothers..

So oddly enough,
When it's all said and done,
I'm not my own worst enemy..

After all.




~Special thanks to Err0r for helping me with the title~

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