Am I supposed to feel sorry for you
As you dust away your soul in splinters
And bend my empathy into a doormat?
Am I supposed to give me beating heart
Into the abyss of your self righteousness
And crush every generation into coal?
When will you break your spine from bent
Into the straight steel of leaders lost
And stand for me as you command I kneel to you?
Would you like me to lament for you
All the times I spent dancing with death
Instead of chasing rainbows for fun
Not for promise of riches and gold
We are the kings and queens of men
With our hollow iron swords
And dull broken axes
Lain out across the field
Alive with nothing but maggots
To clean our hopes and rot our fear
Just Rufio and I checking in to say hi! This is my last week of summer classes so I’ll be on again more quite soon hopefully.
We are the kings among the dust Three steps from memory Driven back with white hot ash We are dancers creeping in crowds Pickpockets in the form of men Collecting souls like popcorn kernels Stuck between shame’s teeth