honestly, just venting about my own childhood and how I hate nostalgia
|helicopter blades for your propeller hat,|
feed fermenting memories deep into the stat trac
decades burn bright, no nostalgia, don't bring them back,
addiction to forgetting, though never forgot what I lacked.
take your silly little plastic toys and slice open legs.
I remember plenty through hazes, headaches and hell ahead.
It should of been obvious to all when a kid of 12 envied the dead.
do away with subtle phrasing for a second, first attempt on my life was at 10.
escape first to books, then heat radiated from a screen, a living, breathing encyclopedia.
kept complacent, hypocrites with escapism, fed up on mass media.
close minded man child in charge who falsely flirts with academia
took me a fucking decade and a half just to escape the breathing mesothelioma
They call bedridden in pain getting better now,
That I've got hope now, an escape to a minor heaven
still tormented day in, day out, more like escape to outer heaven
the truth about that story and my own, the teens plan to kill themselves by 27.