Trade Your Guns for Coffins
I’m dying in the dust,
shadows around my soul,
Flying from the West
where the sun lost its hold.
My heart’s a hollow echo,
as empty as her stare,
Life’s scattered fragments
caught in this cold air.
Whispers of betrayal swirl
like smoke in the night,
I lay here half-awake,
drifting into endless fight.
Trade your guns for coffins;
death is on its way,
The truth cuts deeper
than any knife they say.
Blood the color of rust
staining all that I’ve known,
A battlefield of memories
carved into stone.
The girls are sharpening knives
with venom on their tongues,
Those dead enders collide;
Where heartbreak is sung.
Rumors dance like flames,
igniting my rage inside,
Wanting two men to clash
And one has already died.
Joy's a ghost that's vanished;
slipped through my hands,
Depression's now my lover;
whispering it’s dark commands.
Trade your guns for coffins;
death is on its way,
The truth cuts deeper
than any knife they say.
Blood the color of rust
staining all that I’ve known,
A battlefield of memories
carved into stone.
Lost dreams and shattered hopes
trapped under crimson skies,
Should’ve stayed asleep forever—
now I see through her vacant eyes.
Why did I get up today?
Chains pulling me down
Living feels like dying
when you wear a lead crown.
Trade your guns for coffins;
death is on its way,
The truth cuts deeper
than any knife they say.
Blood the color of rust
staining all I've known,
A battlefield of memories
carved into stone.
I’m dying in the dust
under a sunset’s glow—
Flying from the West
where lost souls come and go.
I've been dead a long time—
just a heartbeat out of breath—
In this life filled with ashes…
I've already danced with death.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
