propeller lingerer

honestly, just venting about my own childhood and how I hate nostalgia

helicopter blades for your propeller hat,
feed fermenting memories deep into the stat trac
decades burn bright, no nostalgia, don't bring them back,
addiction to forgetting, though never forgot what I lacked.

take your silly little plastic toys and slice open legs.
I remember plenty through hazes, headaches and hell ahead.
It should of been obvious to all when a kid of 12 envied the dead.
do away with subtle phrasing for a second, first attempt on my life was at 10.

escape first to books, then heat radiated from a screen, a living, breathing encyclopedia.
kept complacent, hypocrites with escapism, fed up on mass media.
close minded man child in charge who falsely flirts with academia
took me a fucking decade and a half just to escape the breathing mesothelioma

They call bedridden in pain getting better now,
That I've got hope now, an escape to a minor heaven
still tormented day in, day out, more like escape to outer heaven
the truth about that story and my own, the teens plan to kill themselves by 27.