Not here to make you smile.
The young boy, now a man, sits in dread of imagined threats, and bemoans his station.
When we sit and sulk, time crawls.
Deus ex machina, the way of man.
Come to me, dear old friend. Make me forget the stabbing.
Piercing purpose | Here are arms, hands an leg and foot | Send your daggers
Pretty little lie | Come to us in our time of need | That we may find peace
Working so hard | To stave off the inevitable and empty | And it comes regardless
Lurking in shadow | Wet fang sharpened and shimmering | Monster pained with hunger | Predator’s eye fixed
Forever drowning | Under the weight of myself | All my mistakes | And a cloud of vapor