We are our ownThe pavement beneath my feet is cracked, dirty, and basically covered in the remains of long ago chewed gum.My tattered black converses, falling apart at the seams, make soft rhythmic taps as I walk.Sunlight is filtering down through the browning leaves of autumn, lighting up my fire truck red hair- it's dyed of course.My hair is styled in a casual disarray of long gelled up spikes, I don't have the stereotypical Mohawk, and instead my head is full of the long, thick hair stiff with gels and grease. I glance around me, slightly nervous, but trying not to show it on the outside.This; this street is generally full of assholes. They ta
Blood stainedBlood stained shoes;Have walked the path of hell.Down the road of ruin...To where the living never venture,And perhaps even the dead wouldn't dare.Into darkness and despair,Walk the blood stained shoes.