The Child Underneath

The Caterpillar wants to hear more poetry
She thinks she’ll love what’s inside of me
So long as it’s presented rhythmically
If I tell a tale told merrily
But I sing a dirge for the Fire Girl and X23
Yet again reeling from the blow of my Enemy
Extricating still more delusion from a bedrock of sanity
Dismayed to discover who really cares about me

Pedaling daily down Venice Boulevard
Disciphering what to do and where to go
God’s ciphers are anything but simple; frankly they’re hard
Trying to save the world with a Mogen David and Kryptonian shield, wouldn’t you know
Certainly no sane adult, just a broken solitary retard
Pining for a minute with Chris Terrio
Forever from the hearts of my lovers barred
Or so I suppose, with no further say so
My light’s candle blackened and charred
Holy mission turned comic book shit show

How much hatred does there have to be before it’s real?
Serendipity can only be a fantasy feel?
Can someone please take the knife out long enough to heal?
I have things I gotta do; that’s just the deal
I can’t achieve functionality
While still shedding sanity
Like a rotten onion peel

So to look around for inspiration, for energy
Fabricating joy to navigate the day
I needed you, Little Sprout Laura, but you buried me
Though not in James Mangold’s way.

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