Life (or Lack of It)

It was never his intention.
Grow up, find love, go out with a bang,
Whatever life held,
He'd take it in two fists and force it into the outline
Of the existence he should have been living

Work hard, head down, go out with a bang

It was never his intention
A touch, fingers bowed beneath bruises
Whatever he meant,
It hadn't sat right in his brain, it splintered,
Cracked. Split and white and pure like bone.

It was never his intention.
A whirring of machinery, cold and unforgiving,
Whatever it did.
Keep quiet, mouth shut, go out with a bang.
Holes in his arm and mind and soul, dead already

Grow up,
Work hard,
Keep quiet,
Stay down,
Go out with a bang.