i'm telling you now, leave.
i'll give you this one warning
before
i pull out my remington and shoot my lucky bullet straight into your heart.

too late

my boy, you're a soon to be dead man.
and me
i'm your death sentence.

make your last wish with pursed lips now.

i will do whatever i need too, to get you out of this head of mine.
i own this brain as tortured and mushy as it is
and you're merely trespassing.


you're the kid they use to shove into lockers, gone rouge.
the kid who's now well, not really a kid at all.

you hangout with the jocks these days,
go to a school full of yuppies
yeah. we all know your type and what you've turned into.

your transparent
might as well be glass.

generic.
simple.
gross.

but that lifestyle changed you into something new
and you morphed into something without a name

you were weak and
this world broke you.

that boy i fell in love with all those moons ago is dead now.

oh, well
time to go


so
here's the door.
and
there's  your shoes..

don't cut yourself too deep on the barbed wire
when you try to fit your pores through that fence


actually do

maybe then you won't come back and  will have finally learned
not to fight
fire
with
fire
and fist with fist


maybe then you won't haunt the halls in my head or the walk back home  

maybe then,
maybe.
maybe some day.