calling out to dead artists

Reassemble yourself on the other side of that eye. I'll be gone. You won't miss me, just the girl you thought you knew. But I'm the boy you'll never know. Pull the grass from your teeth, counting one after one. Can't have the wolves chasing all your dreams away. Cold headaches have me biting snow. 

I love the things that never wanna see my face again. The great unknown (calling out to dead artists). Brand new beast.

Lives are made to end. Mine falls apart, all because of the parts I wasn't given to make myself whole. I'm drowning 'cuz my throat closes down on me, straining like I wanna scream. Eviscerate the rage and what's left but the cloying taste in my brain that calls me a shadow of what I should be. Hurling misery at the wall like abstract splatter painting. Wish I was just a splattering somewhere below a good size building. Every word's gotta be perfect even if the screen is blurring, and every ploy for attention is a scheme to make you love me. Ears, never been pierced, but the heart has been under the gun. "Baby shoes, never worn" has nothing on "our son, never born". After all, I'm just an imposter stealing what could be. Eyes too big and a body that doesn't fit right; it's not my inheritance. Everyone forgets that changelings are just children.