Oh son of beginners mistake Son of pure unclean intention Son of mothers midnight run to bar Son of broken swan wing Son of brokenness Son of lack of sunlight Son of ***** laundry
Boy of unknowing Boy of drinking antifreeze Boy of missing eyed crows Boy of missing childhood Boy of sorrow Boy of stitches Boy of afraid of manhood Boy of afraid
Young God of suicide attempts God of lying to himself that he ever wanted to die God of lying to himself God of lying God of unholiness God of shotgun misfire God of unkempt basements God of homeless dogs God of death and life all at the same time You ain't no God. You are a poser with wings and a capital letter to begin your wretched name.
You won't be happy when you die, you are split between so many titles and you do not know which to choose. You are no one. No one. You are absolutely no one.
(Say, do you know the route to the nearest bar? I'm going to drink myself open, flesh off bone, apathetic skeleton, closest thing to happy. I'm going to drink myself away from you, this world, myself.)