To Burn the Witch is to Admit that Magic Exists
I never understood the sentiment:
“Attention is attention even it's bad”
Until now
I spill your gearfull hourglasses better than anyone can
And you still don't recognize who I am
You weren't worth the trouble I put up with
I might just piss you off so much, just so you can show me what friendship costs again
You're the sniper;
I'm the broken safety
I held this hellscape in a glass ball,
Charring the palm of my hands
Damned if I choose it,
But still terrified of losing it
But I'm already a navy ship sunken in through veteran eyes
And I'm already that repentant tattoo screaming on your skin;
A stabbing reminder of painfully innocent times
I drain your energy hourglasses quicker than a pickpockets’ hand
I'm already the shimmer of stained glass stars,
In your sky full of fractious horrors
But I can show you the difference of light and dark
Better than a magician can
If only my considerate gestures could be wrapped up like gifts
You would see your coven turn into a closet full of hopeful but delusional spirits
Every pen he touches turns to gold, but he’ll avoid a harsh truth like a syllable minefield
I question then, if you'd see me for who I really am
But I'm already healing from what I am to you;
A shell of my past self, too far gone to catch a lively clue
Dancing with the ligature, just to inspire deeper pages of literature
Look at this kingdom I’ve come to rule!
Keeping you alive and destructive, just to ensure a topic sentence
Look at this planet I’ve discovered where my flag is revealed!
Every pen he touches turns to gold,
but he’ll avoid a harsh truth like a syllable minefield
I'm already the sapience of the serpent masked behind the peril of the lamb
But you still manage to forget I can cry wolf better than a flock of sheep can
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