98th Volume Of Poetry

Ricochet The Bullets
Every day I have to argue with you to ricochet the bullets
I have to resort to my final wits
I wish I could just leave and call it quits
So I wouldn't have to put up with your screaming
But all I can do is resort to daydreaming
To a place better in seeming
To a place without your lies
The only place I can go without your battle cries
Away from this place where the bullet flies

My Fault
If I could write a song
You'd say the tune is wrong
I could cheer you when you're sad
But you would only get mad
Then I could apologize
But you'd damn me with your eyes
Then what else can I do
It's all my fault to you

Nothing
The words "I'll die alone"
Are carved in metallic stone
I aimlessly roam
For I have no home
And wherever my heart takes root
No one partakes of its fruit
My heart bleeds and it cries
Trampled in the dirt it lies