tyrants

ghost

i feel like i'm 16 going on 103 and i can't do jack shit about it like/ i used to spend all my time riding the wind and i would reach out and swallow the sun and feel my skin unsallow and glow/ and when the heat would get too much i'd let its lava flow from my lips, you called it pliant honesty/there would be five o' clock crescent moons shining in my eyes and i'd feel the rain water seeping into my burning soul/except it was a hell of a lot better at chilling my mania than any of those shopping mall acs ever were/when it was easy to pretend i was a warrior girl fighting with red strings/cutting them away with the swords in my teeth

and then i paled my hair with a box of dye/white lethargy kissing the spirit away from my lungs/and then my mind grew too heavy a weight for the wind/ when the revolution i spent years feeding kindling fizzled out into ice/and my eyes carried a pained sort of wisdom/ the special kind you see with a head full of filth and a smile full of no-good/never needed no substance abuse to get my artificial syrup highs/when i became the worst sort of prison - the kind i want to sink into until i can just forget all the heart ache (and heartbreak)

but the roots of my hair are still dark and my thighs still burn trying to hold up the sky/ i can still taste my blood raw against the fissures in my cheeks/ and my tears are still black and sweet/remembering how you always liked me better when i cried/i still have a young supernova star clawing out of my throat/and i swear to me that i'll never let me choke it down/and maybe then i'll finally find a way to forgive myself/for the mistakes i made in the past

i made an example of my pain
i called it my peace and pride