To Burn the Witch is to Admit that Magic Exists

I never understood the sentiment: “Attention is attention even it's bad” Until now I spill your gearfull hourglasses better than anyone can And you still don't recognize who I am You weren't worth the trouble I put up with I might just piss you off so much, just so you can show me what friendship costs again You're the sniper; I'm the broken safety I held this hellscape in a glass ball, Charring the palm of my hands Damned if I choose it, But still terrified of losing it But I'm already a navy ship sunken in through veteran eyes And I'm already that repentant tattoo screaming on your skin; A stabbing reminder of painfully innocent times I drain your energy hourglasses quicker than a pickpockets’ hand I'm already the shimmer of stained glass stars, In your sky full of fractious horrors But I can show you the difference of light and dark Better than a magician can If only my considerate gestures could be wrapped up like gifts You would see your coven turn into a closet full of hopeful but delusional spirits Every pen he touches turns to gold, but he’ll avoid a harsh truth like a syllable minefield I question then, if you'd see me for who I really am But I'm already healing from what I am to you; A shell of my past self, too far gone to catch a lively clue Dancing with the ligature, just to inspire deeper pages of literature Look at this kingdom I’ve come to rule! Keeping you alive and destructive, just to ensure a topic sentence Look at this planet I’ve discovered where my flag is revealed! Every pen he touches turns to gold, but he’ll avoid a harsh truth like a syllable minefield I'm already the sapience of the serpent masked behind the peril of the lamb But you still manage to forget I can cry wolf better than a flock of sheep can