that's the way (my dears, o my dears)
if you want to build a hero.
Ravenous things and wild boys,
salt and silver bullets for toys--
all can be borne if together.
But birds with wings will want to fly
(all but the blind look to the sky);
one can't stay, the other can't go.
Brother, soldier, scholar--or knife:
cut yourself open on this life
so sharp it's light as a feather.
Hey, look--I wrote a thing! (Please don't ask me to explain any of it, because I don't know either.)