[Evilempire]

my dear, you were born
with charcoal on your fingers
and paint stains on your bones
you were made to shine
with summer in your eyes
and daybreak in your blood
ah, but my dear
the world is not kind to starlit boys
the world does not know what to do
with sunshine and charcoal and martyrs
except to burn
and burn
and burn
and oh, how you burned
now, my dear,
your fingers are black with gunpower smoke
and your bones are stained with blood
your eyes, they are blue with ice and misery
and your blood, it pulses with bursting grenades
but at least the world got its legend,
didn’t it?
(x)