We Are Killers

​We are killers. We slaughter one another, then call ourselves the murdered. We try to fit in. We try to be secure. We always fall in love at the most unexpected places, times, and ways. We fall so hard for the wrong ones, or maybe they're right. Our timings cause most of the troubles we own. We have minor issues which we call extreme. Our curiosity opens our wrists and leaves us draining in the salt of our tears. "Have we ever cracked our lips at a joke?" They ask and stare, all white and blank. "No." The reply was clear, it wandered around with the clouds of smoke they sat in. "Is that why we're always shedding tears?" Their looks inquired, yet their mouths were still. The only actions they did was inhale weed and exhale smoke. They spoke clouds. Never words. They saw everything. We. We saw everything. We were never on the same page. We were never enemies. We kill each other under the name of protection and we walk willingly to our death beds under the name of love. We spend time together, alone. We stay silent for hours and maybe even days, yet our eyes speak speeches at simple plain moments of when they meet. We're the mis-guiders of others' souls. We're responsible for our own deaths. We're at war. We're at the greatest of wars. We fight our thoughts. We suffer conflict. We suffer loss of our loved ones. We suffer loss of ourselves. We have hearts that scream, but are in love with the pain. We have minds that can't stop thinking, but act otherwise. We're losing our sanity bits by bits. We can see it slip away. We can feel it letting go. We lose conscious in our daydreams, and we die young of fear. Our actions are extremes. At times, we're too depressed to be considered alive. At times, we're too happy for the lives we run. We consider ourselves sins. We consider ourselves dreams. We are the death in life. We are the life in death.