There is no turning back from all the confines of regret. Reminders of that day will haunt you, nights you never slept. And every time you separate the body from the mind.
So serene is the bleached white scene. Of a thousand crimes you'll never see on TV. Swept away only to pave the new way. This misinformation age is upon us all.
We are the embarrassment to market suicide. Without eyes full, full of genocide. We live where flags can buy more than others' lives. Where it's fashion to show your love for homicide.
One nation under the gun. Where forward thinking is shunned. A morbid tradition. Of archaic value systems. . Where violence justified. Is just another pride.