Punk Is Not Depressed

I lost your hair tie. I know you lost one too. But I still have your four necklaces. I remember our spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Rebellious, cut, gentle, dark. I lose, but I remember. It takes loneliness to sentence someone to death. It takes letting memory reconstruct itself as it fades and is rewritten. Hatred is self-protection. Punk is not depressed.