you crying, tragic waste of skin.

Oh, you beautiful boys,
You wristcutters,
You Pans,
You sick, sad toys.

You cherry crushers,
You dingy, drossy, greasy angels,
You wolves,
You holy fools.

They're blind to you
And always will be.
Chasing ghosts was never fun.
Broken mirrors that show nothing
And me, always propping my temple with an invisible gun.