If lightning zaps me on the head
and in an instant I am dead
at least I'll have written a poem that said
I love you
If I sink into the sea
and nothing can be found of me
at least I found a page to say
in the most tender + deliberate way
I'll miss you
+ not to the satans of this earth
whose curse is felt throughout
when they toil +
invest in oil
instead of people
whose hopes and dreams
are left on the drying rack
whose optimism has burnt
from ripe
to black
_________________________
Looks like we've earmarked you for fear
looks like we've picked you out for pain
we've installed a mutagen in the corner of your brain
so that when you smile
you'll feel worse
the more you try to allay your curse
the harder it will seem to feel
to unreel yourself
from the marionette strings
we're dangling from the corpse
you're trapped in
It's pain for you +
that's the deal
that's what you were designed to feel
skewered on a spit
at the bottom of a pit
when you think that
there's no more hurt to find
you'll be wrong
you're the squealing soprano
in our torture song
We wrote you an aria
and here's how it goes:
'I am the flower
of woe'
