Half Past One

If you knew the thoughts floating in my head half past one, would you hand me a bible or would you hand me a gun?

Would you give up on me? Throw in the towel on my behalf? Tell me,

It’s unfixable.

Drown out all bellowing yells of victory and point and lead me to where darkness hides best–in myself. 

Or.

Or would you tell my frail heart to stop feeding me lies my spirit despises? 

Would you cradle my mind into your sacred arms and take me by the hand and walk with me?

 Even when it gets dark enough to hear evil howl, will you still walk with me? 

I beg of you,

Walk with me.

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