The Battle Of The Boy Least Likely To

Warm milk and honey
Sweeten my teeth
From little acrons you,
You quietly made me
Made me into me

Paper thin skin stretched over my bones
From shells and pebbles
You, you quietly made me
Made me a home

But I can't get used
To being alone
And I won't get used
To being alone

Under a full moon
Hopelessly trying to retrace
Our footsteps in the snow
I don't know when to hang on
And when to let go

Foxes in boxes
And butterfly wings
From little acorns you
You quietly made me
Made me into you

Holding it under
Mine ten tillet stones
From all of my demons
You quietly saved me
Again and again

But now I feel
In service again
Yes I can feel
In service again

From little baubles
Littley baubles
Little embolisms grow
I don't know when to hang on
Everything I feel, feels wrong
I don't know when to hang on
And when to let go