Work Text:
Oh, prince
Who led you to believe that life started at it's death?
That unlife was the only way of being?
You were never given life
You were born dead
and lived dead
You were more alive than anyone else you knew
How sheltered they forced you to be
with books thoroughly combed and
every piece of unsightly information
redacted and torn
Blood from a cup
You hold your finger up
like a butterfly will land
But it's just your conscience
and how that butterfly fell
Its wings grew heavy as steel
and its thorax black as coal
Its eyes dull as stone
Its life as dead as yours
It pulled you to the ground, Oh prince
It muddied your green jacket
and black dress shoes
and tore you to bloody bits
that those around you would engorge themselves on