Crazy young one 

 your time is soon to come. 

Keep shoving those rails up your pretty perfect snout. 

You think your a king, 

from the head you boast about. 

Your smile woo’s the weak,

followers who prey. 

Leaders shy away from you, 

your a black sheep, eating dry hay. 

 

Women worship you for your charm, 

men beg you for your promise, 

You smell of sadness and silk, 

both broken and beautiful  

damaged yet delightful  

 

a lie. 

a blessing 

a fraud. 

a gift. 

 

You are a beautiful mess. 

 

Yet you ache to dig your grave. 

Beacause you. 

Have bled all your beauty for others.