This is the end of a bloodline, I am a catalyst coming from a long line of bullshit and heteronormativity. I am the end of a bloodline, I've rejected my last name and I've rejected the ugly tears that come from my mother's eyes. "You can't guilt trip me anymore, know that this town has been our deathbed and that I dance gladly on our grave."
Stop crying, you brought this on yourself, you shouldn't have tried so long for that second kid, why bother when you're just going to beat me into a pulp on the daily. But good news- you're a blacksmith- building up my will with each time you heat me and the second I'm old enough I'm out of here. Wake up and I'll have packed up overnight and left without a trace.
I am the end of a bloodline, a holocaust of morals passed down and disposed of, pissed out with my morning coffee, bitter and rancid ideals down the drain like they were never present on me in the first place, I peeled the skin off that you tried to brand it onto.
I am the end of a century, sauntering parts to my empty canvas, the lies between my legs rewritten and removed from history. Ctrl Alt Delete and the feed cuts out abruptly, we fade to black and static.
YOU ARE READING
Cyanide Daydreams
Poetryyet another dumb edgy poetry book in which i take heavy inspiration from F. T. Willz
