What if, what if life was bad, what if life was a horror movie, it was death, it was hell, what if people would rather kill them self's then ever for even a mere second kill them self's in the worst way imaginable, they live your life, for a second.
What if every second of every day of your life, it was kill or be killed, what if you needed to remember to take a hell of a lot more then your pencil case to school.
What if every single nice party you went to, you didn't worry about what dress made your arse look what ever size, but needed to worry, what would be better, a Tommy gun, hand gun, or double barrelled sawn off shot gun...
what then.
What does it mean when its a nice normal thing for a seven year old to be tucked in to bed with the biggest, shinest shot gun ever imaginable. By the way, his name, its Mr. blastie.
What does it mean, ill tell you want it means, IT MEANS WAR...
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