Poetry

I TOOK OFF MY VEST NOW LOOK AT MY CHEST IF SHE WAS USING REAL BULLETS I WOULD HAVE BEEN PUT TO REST WIT 22 HOLE IN MY CHEST I WANT A OPEN CASKET I WANT YOU TO SEE HOW MANY TIMES SHE DONE BLASTED BUT SHE PUT THE GUN IN MY HAND LIKE IM THE ONE TO BLAME LIKE I SET MY OWN HEART TO REVIVE ALL THIS PAIN BUT SCENE THE GUN IS I MY HAND IM THE ONE TO BLAME.