Sad and Holy Glow
The ammo box under your bed
is filled with blood,
and your heart is filled with lead.
And the finger that’s itching to write
the darkest things
is your epitaph tonight.
Did you watch the ghosts leak from the walls?
Did they talk to you
in the still and empty halls,
to the empty tune only you know,
of a broken mind,
of the sad and holy glow.
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