Columbine

[Gravvity]

hes staring at the fan on his ceiling,
with a mad crooked feeling,
and every second that hes killing,
he can feel his soul chilling,
with an ice box where his heart used to be,
his temperature drops like negative 32 degrees,
so inhale exhale breathe deep deep breaths,
his chest compressed underneath his bulletproof vest,
and the swift blade of agony, released him from his sanity,
no care for humanity, he's lost in calamity,
memories suppressed released ill-logical emotions,
and pushed him to motion, his anger burst in convulsions,
with no one to console him, he's far past controllin,
and this gun that he's holdin, will unleash what he holds in...