Name Brand Punk

Name Brand Punk

A mallrat he struts,
with a tattered leather coat homemade scars and fabricated life,
elegant business turned hardcore headbang, name brand Punk.
Jet black hair, $23, beauty salon styled bedhead,
designer ripped pants, long hours of a personal mosh pit,
alone with some scissors and a sewing kit.
His head is low, a high school drama scowl,
hides the features of a would be handsome young man.

Poppy music blares out of Abercrombie,
a boy behind the eyeliner eyes, in a Polo shirt
screams the lyrics desperately, seeking acceptance,
but denying it outright.
He laughs at the singsong tune and catchy beat
with his tactfully unkempt horde, a dead cackle,
a Rebel with a cause, the cause to live life,
not his own, but the life of that unclean group of degenerates.
Name Brand Punk, homemade scars.