and our children never lie, and no matter how we try, we are not afraid to die.

you traded your eyes for guns and a half-hearted soul; corruption becomes you, you know. oh, yes, with your head held high you're a sight to see, all right.
your fingers lost me in the winter. not that you'd know that, your arms pointed towards deserts and the warmth death settles in the recesses of your belly.
it's only now that you remember, a small smile on the edges of your mind and a little broken wave you stuck in your back pocket, among coins and the sand from windy beaches.
see, that's me, and you want all that back now; your eyes haphazard in their old sockets.

but ahaha, it's over. i hope your heart bleeds.