Censorship For Our Own Good

The concrete is rough He acts so tough But it’s the softest thing he’s felt in a long time The buildings are too sublime A silver bullet would be a crime He’s never been fine He already tried the scent of pine Others suggested rhymes His watch says it’s almost time Time to change this ebb and flow Time to cross the lines he’s always known To be his home He’s always alone It’s better that way He used to go to church to pray But he got caught up in the havoc Of life, his ears filled with static He opens his eyes No one sees him cry They tell him he should try So he tries something new Something that tastes blue Which is better than grey He won’t even have to pay The sun is too bright So he chose to do it at night Where he can fight With himself in the cover of darkness Maybe this is craven Nevertheless, he seeks a haven For the first time he feels okay This is where most people would pray Not him, his god died long ago Killed by the demons he can’t show Instead he implores the cars That they move quickly under the hidden stars I take a deep breath Not looking as I step into oncoming traffic Make sure you warn your kids; this next scene is graphic.