What we do when we can't

Silence and pain
a piercing combination
Death and tears
an entrapment I can't escape
Questioning always
Answers never
Words with no meaning
Meaning with no expression
Slowly killing
The left is dead
The right has gone
I feel left alone
All fear
no feelings or emotion
just knowing
ready
take aim
and fire
A blade
the deep pools
of dripping blood
I cry alone
with no one there
on green paper
and black pen
deep seeded anger
nothing
not at all

So that what came from my mind when I thought of Mark and Chad the other day. It's just thoughts and feelings out into verse, but what else would poetry be if not that? What would life be if not that? We are nothing but pure imperfection no matter how hard we try. Nothing at all without....