Little boy blue,
The doctors saved you
But the seepage was swift
And the blue stained your mood.
There would be a parade
From the backyard to the bedroom
Their cheers were of grief and despair
Then nobody would speak for days
So you'd navigate filth left in the wake.
How does it feel to be alone?
How does it feel when you're a kid and no one is there?
Do you just want to run away?
Do you just want everything to go away?
Can you know these feelings beyond
Singing "here's your holiday" and "I never thought I'd die alone"?
So you try to exert
To find your self-worth
And veil the hue.
Is it their questions that hurt?
Or maybe finding the answers at all.
You spent so long swimming in your brain.
You thought you'd finally drift from it.
Kiss a bottle, take a handful, cloud your lungs.
There's the numbness that you crave.
Here, it's safe to satiate your fears and aches.
You like how they touch, talk, or stare.
But you'd eventually hang yourself with every
Blonde strand that came lose on your pillows.
The doctor uncovered it all.
Why you can't trust men, even though you are one.
And why you're scared of yourself as a father.
Who could blame you, boy blue?
You were only taught a God of sometimes.
You pictured yourself the face of a big something
But you're someone else.
And all your bohemian friends
Couldn't keep themselves alive.
But you'd forge their memories
When another sun dress arrested your sight.
This one was different.
Another soft voice and small body to make you forget.
To puncture your wounds and rearrange
The crooked, scarred, blue heart.
Inside of a late April or early May,
You tore away your rot to make for her goodness.
She knew you.
And you knew her.
But she forgot.
Because there's well-dressed guys in every college town.
But you've learned this before,
You're making your way.
After all, the heaviest thing about you is your brain.
And you're still holding your head up-right.