Let me tell you what you don’t know about them.
They are broken.
Crushed into a million pieces.
They’ve had enough of your hand-me-down bullshit.
They won’t care to please you, won’t pretend.
They look like bright stars on a cloudless night.
They don’t ask for attention like you do.
Feed at your soul, leave you with a bitter nostalgia.
You can’t suppress them, you can’t dim their halo
You don’t even want to try.
They’re not the been-to people like we all are,
they’re the felt-it-with-all-my-heart kinda assholes.
They’ve tasted senile love
on those cold ash covered floors.
The people who you call weird,
like sanity ever did anyone any good.
You ask me about these reckless humane humans?
Let me tell you that they have absolutely nothing ahead of them;
yet they have their whole lives planned out like constellations.
Stupid, it may seem but your reality is as important to their dreams,
As humanity is to you.
Those lazy bastards are a revolution.
Those shards of drunk empathy are exactly
what your tongue does not want to lick.
They’re fire, let me tell you.
If only they knew… -T.