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Poor boy,
Drowned in himself;
In a lake of something familiar, he
Drowned in hormones.
A few strings to his thing, and
Nightlong spell of Venus,
He’s fit to swim, but he,
Egret!
All-white soul, didn’t know
That his regret was with Margret
In her downside pouch,
So they held hands, locked jaws, and
He dived straight down to Canaan.
Now his head is filled with voices,
Echoes of the big bang;
Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve…
He was but a boy.
