The bar swung high over this plasticized kid
no hope to live, just with one thought left in his head
what will my ‘friends’ all think of me now?
this punk thinks hes beaten the crowd, that he can be better.
but in jumping this boy, he’s begging to be tethered
I last sullen cry parts the innocent kid’s lips
a quick jab in the stomach and he’ll be easily fixed
the throat deprived of the kids dying will
a person can die of one suppressed cry
the moon becomes red
with the blood of an innocent
yet why would it bother a son’s own father
when with the world’s consent
the son’s view of life had been broken and bent