After not putting a bullet in my head she grabs my hand and tells me letās find a cure to fix the illness to come she gives me hope in these dark time of being bit by a zombie a zed Helping this woman in her fight She urges to tell me let continue On foot she need to find her boyfriend In my mind it was a red flag but she gave me hope to live on sooo I helped her on her search Which could be a dead end but her eyes look hopefull beautiful as a opal we found a abandon building seeking for refuge on maybe a place to rest our heads the room seemed to be empty she dress my wounds and we proceed to sleep my dreams shows me I want to eat drain the blood of the innocent Hopeing I grain sum fragments of my memory Seeing me take the life of the woman that saved me. I wake up in a panic looking around round Happy that it didnāt happen she sleeps her night away . I walk away to find my veins are darkening this is not how a hero supposed to feel but Iāll protect her in the end fight this bad feeling I hope to not let in (my verse) Morning smells like rust and rain, the city holding its breath, Every shadow feels alive, whispering promises of death. My hands shake when I stand up, veins crawling like they know, Something ancient in my marrow telling me itās time to go. She smiles in her sleep, like tomorrow still exists, Like love aināt been erased by teeth and broken wrists. I turn my back to guard the door, not trusting what I am, A loaded gun with a conscience, finger trembling on the jam. Every step I take away from her feels heavier than chains, āCause I know if I stay too close, I might become her pain. I pray to gods that never answered even before the fall, Begging let me rot alone, just donāt let me hurt her at all. Memories leak through the cracksāsirens, laughter, names, Faces I donāt recognize but still feel the shame. Was I a brother, was I loved, did I promise Iād return? Or was I always just a spark waiting for the world to burn? I press my nails into my palm just to feel something real, Remind myself Iām still alive, not a curse that learned to feel. The hunger talks in echoes, wearing voices of the dead, Says survival aināt about heart, itās about who youāve bled. But when she wakes and calls me back, fear hiding in her eyes, I lie and say Iām feeling fine, heroes live on pretty lies. If this infection takes my soul, it wonāt take my choice, Iāll be the silence at her side, not the monster with a voice.
