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.