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you bled from hands i punctured, as if you intended my salvation / you knew it’s pain, but you spread my arms as you whispered “beloved son” / my ankles couldn’t support my weight, even before you set them against what i made / my throat has grown dry, but it still cries to you as if you haven’t left me betrayed / it’s all rough against my skin,  but your lips on my forehead is a thousand times worse / it’s getting harder for my lungs, but i swear i wish i had enough breath to curse / did you think the crown a fit for my arrogance? / did you think a few nails a better inheritance?