Hand against hand.
Skin against skin.
Reality of falsity.
Illusions of fact.
The buds of a tree.
The leaves of life.
The tree and offspring,
LeadThe world isn’t made of lead,Lead by ~TNAotC
unless all else batters like diamonds
toppling from the ground by an axe of steel.
All grows like ice on a winter’s day,
and once the sun comes out,
each droplet falls slowly, once today.
Beneath the house, a child stands,
tongue out, water lands.
The cold warrior stabs,
and children cry, whine, as well as shine.
Even children know the world isn’t made of lead.
And while armies march, flowers grow,
like infants sprouting from their mother’s womb,
greeting the world with a shriek, a sob, and a smile.
A bolt of light may strike,
but a child somewhere runs aloof,
and somewhere tears are f
adulthoodi used to hear stories about adulthood,adulthood by ~TNAotC
about how sometimes, it’s like a colorless veil fell over your eyes.
i used to hear that people lost their dreams
in order to become socially acceptable.
i didn’t want to believe any of it.
the optimist in me told me to keep dreaming.
but i’ve been eighteen for awhile
and it’s like a little monster has decided to ride my back ever day.
it’s trying to get me to wear dark glasses,
so i just see the world normally.
and it’s scary as hell.
Me, the WriterSome days, I become a shell,Me, the Writer by ~TNAotC
while my mind becomes a leaf on the breeze.
And it takes me,
up and away, to a world of fake,
or so it goes.
I go to a world
where people jump from airplanes,
in a place that isn’t visible to my eyes,
but to in fact to theirs.
I see the sky as it changes colors,
and a man conducts it with only the tips of his fingers,
while the effluvium of the masses obeys his command.
The trees swoon.
And the lights come hither.
They rise from the ground like a thousand soldiers,
Obeying an captain, or maybe
freedom blesses the sky,
creating the constellations that once