Cuffs

Wrists bruised from the cuffs–cops got too rough

Spit through your bluff cause I’ve had enough

Children chewed up by the system

Parents don’t ever miss ’em

Eyes glisten like some twisted Christmas

Father’s all business with his schizophrenic mistress

You ever seen a princess with a hit list?

It’s cold in their cell like the lowest level of hell

Demonized fallen angels sent to dwell

Yellow wrists tempt the nature of a pacifist

Traumas fester within then bubble up like a cyst

What’s on your twisted wish list, kid?

Revenge? The end? More meds?