Mom and Dad, your Son isn't well

Metallic spit corrodes and digests

This hard carbon truth.

And though it’s fear on the trigger,

My hand shakes from something bigger.

Sullen tears seek only to rust

And arrest this action.

But death is quicker than quick

And kisses with its warming sick.

I'm sorry, I should have put a disclaimer when I first posted this piece. This is not a cry for help. These kinds of things should be taken very seriously and I should have noted otherwise. Thank you for your concern and I apologize for any anxiety that this may have caused.

On a side note, I originally was going to title this "...Daughter...", but thought that the picture looked more like a young man than a young woman (it's actually a woman). I wove this plot in my head of him struggling with himself and acceptance from his parents as a drag queen which is reinforced by his clothing. It reminded me a bit of Hedwig from Hedwig and the Angry Inch.