Cement caked and dry below my fingernails.
A clear and present sign of a struggle to the basement floor.
Why won't you believe me?
What was said, that tarnished my credibility,
and filled your insecurities?

Was it the hole in my head?
The blood dripping through my pores?
Just wash my mind, and leave me to die.

It's not your fault,
there is no place in this world for a sociopath.
It's the times,
and the need for a savior of our terrain in this sub-garnished world.