Red roses all around
The red stains on the ground
He came to break hearts
On Valentine's Day
Bright hearts full of ambition
Broken by rapid ammunition
He came to break hearts
On Valentine's Day
He came to break hearts
On Valentine's Day
In this fall before spring's bloom
Death's rise did plume
And hearts were broken
On Valentine's Day
To love's lost vision
Execrated by incision
He came to break hearts
On Valentine's Day
It is with great anger
That I lay my anchor
In this sea of tears
And as I sit silent
Upon the calm of carnage
I look to the dome on the ridge
And with death's plume, at my sail
I shall land with force, no fail
In that dome's rotunda
Carrying the rage of a nation
Carrying the rage of a nation
The wrenching from within me is unbearable.
Hair, all along my arms, raise.
As if static electricity had been the entirety of me.
All the while, the skin grows cold, clammy.
I'm unable to confess my deteriorated state.
It's a sickness unlike any other; inexplicably daunting.
To whom may console me? Alleviate my pain?
I seek release,
from such a cumbersome,
and execrated imprecation.
My 'conflict-averse' paranoia.