As I lay in my room with you thinking I'm dreaming of the day gone, I hear you cutting into oneanother with words, screams, shouts, and insults. You both smoke because if you didn't let anger out on eachother or let it out in a cigarette you'd probably explode or going into a tear soked, pain induced, hatred caused, depression.
When I finally do sleep and you have run out of razors I dream of a world where war was a nightmare of politicans and never existed. This world is where a smile meant some thing and the only four letter words were hope, love, care, and glad. Sad and hurt were feeling you got only when you fell but you went home to your mother and father and everything became alright. The only tears shed were tears of joy.
I'm awake and you're at it again with the razors you found under the bed throwing them at eachother. Some you missed and others were direct hits. PLEASE JUST STOP.