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Execute Me, My Friend
Maybe time will tell the truth, of the story not yet written.
Or maybe deceit will be our pen, to lie about our tale.
Preaching words you do not believe is false advertisement.
Like the friendship that melts away when the words burn through your mouth.
"Is there a limit to how many times a heart can break?"
Sore is the soul that hates.
Yet I cannot spare myself the harrow.
Must we crucify in bravery to prove a point on speculation?
We constrict ourselves to a war that holds no merit, there is no prize for cruelty.
"Peace between the lines of fire."
