A Bloody Masterpiece Poem by Poetic Crisis

We speak in circles,
We live in cycles,
Rendering us weak,
Content on the sleep,
Torn from the seams,
A whole new way of exploiting a bloody masterpiece,

Using your words,
As a way to change the way I think,
To witness the change,
The change in me,
Exposing the nightmares as dreams,

What ever happened to the smile on your face?
Or the dead taking your place?
Speechless and drained,
So disposable at an early age,
The deafening scream,
Of the one who chose the knife,

This is the devil,
This is the spawn,
This is the knife,
This is the gun,


I don't want the knife,
I want the gun...