A tragic verse prowls in their minds
When I roam their way,
Trapped in the cross-hairs
All their guns aimed high

“Crisis” lives
Ensnared in the pits of their stomachs,
Starving for the ascent
To explode into being

In truth these words
Were all born within,
Turning over and over
Having roots in white scars,
Once burning and bathed
In shades of red

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