Never Meet Your Idols

We built you out of fear
and painted you with noise,

a perfect golden calf
to hide the silence of the void.

I carried the weight of your shadow
for decades,
straining to keep the sky from crushing your paper crown,

only to look up and realize—
you were never holding the ceiling.

You were just waiting for me to collapse
so you could blame gravity for the ruin.

Now, I let that motion exhaust;
I let the whitewash flake;

I close my eyes to scour the memory of your hollow name,

until there is nothing left
but the cold and clean truth

you were too pussy to survive.

Fuck the Lie.
And if you wanna be down with the Lie, then fuck you too.

Merry Christmas