We Might As Well Be
I can’t wake up from this nightmare we've made
from love, distrust and our desperate son—
the loneliest creature; broken homemade.
what didn’t I do and what have you done?
sorry to inform you, you’re not the one—
you spoke to me in a backwards fashion
trading some misplaced anger for passion
displaced once more with the hate you would hide,
I opened my heart and you threw trash in
if god is love, then let death be our guide.
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