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let me tell you
a story of a boy
almost a man in a marbled body
powerful, spirited,
deeply hurt.
he sunk into himself
too young
grasped death
too young
closed a living door
that he knew to be so open,
and created a world
where he was king.
he reigned a sphere that held
cognizance of the insane
perfect crimes
gleaming smiles, sparkling eyes
respect for the profound miscreant
that executes with
imperceptible stealth.
he was the king
of this swirling darkness.
on an odyssey throughout his kingdom
he began a tail
crafted of intelligence, crime, calculation,
until his reason spread to the other side
where he revered twisted depravity.
he found himself
swirled in circles
treading in circles
searching for the end of a perfect story.
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Today, my sister ran off with my scale to hide it, screaming “death to the patriarchy!” the whole way.
