Here I am. The perfect tool. Weapon. Insanity in a fishbowl full of gasoline. I destroy whatever I touch, because I can. You know I'm stronger than you this makes you lose sleep. So you hide behind politics, handguns, cigarette smoke, and tears. You created this. Short leashed dog, poked and prodded. Napalming your mind with your own ignorance and fear. Smashing your world. Smashing your face. I do my thing without thinking, you do that for me. I don't sleep anymore. I stay in my room looking for that secret place where demons comes from. I got ideas from the television. No more scratching at my throat kinda nights. This trip might end, but I want a mission, and for my child like innocence, you gave me one. I sit in the back of my closet, like a jungle, hiding with my shotgun, waiting for the enemy to stick his greasy head up out of the piles of dirty clothes and boxes, so I can splatter his brains all over the shitty flower pattern wallpaper. In my dreams I'm shooting kids, cops, and cats. I destroy, because that's what you need me to do.
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