[dull boy]

The Marxist. Quit from Harvard lit' to strum guitars at the park for cents.
He hums his heart and scars unstitch to drips his sick on a Barbie's lips.
He's hardly Ken. Harley Quinn's more of partner. The Arkham prince.
Guards his darkness from his Barbie/kids. Carves out parts that harbor sin.
He comes apart, 'cause parts of him that aren't so harsh are all but dim.
His charm and wit are tarnished. Missed, are his carcinogenic carbon prints.
The horror within 'em and carnal sin are what armored his partial parts from risk.