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This is a poem about a young man deciding to take life into his own hands. |
| His life in the broken blade Quivering in his boots Are you yellow boy? Salty passengers abandon ship Its harder than he thought But he presses on Other kids hope to be astronauts He hopes not to get caught up He’s looking for Big Trouble But he’s so small in the Atlas’ hand And he’s been cursed by sirens Singing of love and loss He’ll pay any cost But broken blades are short So he points it somewhere else Makes a mess of himself But the blade isn’t done with him It will bloody his bed As he was he is dead Something is missing from his head It distracts from the red In his heart and on his sleeve Its too soon for him to leave So he leaves broken blades in their sheaths And climbs up to the leaves He feels at peace in the trees |