hey man we played (rubber swords with razor blades)
Once upon a time, there was a boy
who could have been happy and safe,
born as he was into a lovely loving life.
(but here's the twist - this is not that kind of story)
One night, Death took the face of a monster
and came a-knocking.
Once it knocked, and the boy's father fell.
Twice it knocked, and the boy's mother said 'no'
and she fell, but so did the monster
and the boy lived.
Once upon a time, there was a boy
whose blood taught him the cruelest lessons anyone could ever learn
who taught him everything he knew
from how to be a slave
to how to swallow knives and shattered glass
and never say a word.
But the boy was clever so he learned, and by God did he learn well.
He made the knives his own, and built palaces out of the shards he'd been given, and he waited.
Once upon a time, there was a boy a whole world made into a hero
but they left him behind, forgetting that no one quite knows how to fall like a hero
(they shouldn't have, but hush, that's a secret)
and when he came back they trusted him and never saw the knives hidden beneath his skin.
They trusted him as he learned to paint the sky in blood
as he made them his and taught them how to swallow sharp blades until they're your own
until he could lead them back to his childhood's prison to spit them back
until everyone saw that the world was his.
(and Death came a-knocking once, twice, thrice
and every time the boy said no
until the monster took one look at him and saw the knives
and made the boy his)