Boy of [Blank]

If this reflects me and you
It was not meant to be wondered on
It was meant to be the natural state
The thorax of the beetle
Lifting its wings and spurting the venom
I’m not the natural artist you thought I was
It’s taken the sweat of lakes for me to be so bad
Blood does not spill easily
But is taken with the bone marrow
And is crushed when you need it to be
When you go through what I’ve gone through
Enduring a millennia of days wasted
Wishing it was all reversed for you
Then the ropes and the knots, the music and the lyrics
The friends and the walkers and the runaways
It all pieces together
And you have built a boy, not just of flesh
Not of fiber or cells or the natural form
But of cobwebs and meshed web and little lies
False beliefs and built up idols and towering walls
If you can understand this desire for truth
It is not naturally a part of me