The passing of time only helps to accentuate the form of my ever closing eyes. Such bright colours, so full of life. These trinkets tell for me stories of my childhood. The life energy quest for reason, and ever present self-destruction. Does one not have enough enemies as it is? Why turn against thy self? The children play, paying no mind to the danger around them. They are happy when they stare at the clouds. Maybe they look down at us on the days we cry alone. I used to ask, why are children killed? I didn't know how to answer that when I was 10. I felt I was no longer allowed to be a child. Enough of this chatter of maybes and what ifs...I exist in this present world of disgust. All the questions I have challenged myself with where ones I could not answer. I need to breath. I need to be free. I need to fell unempty. Deep, but full of myself? Downed within intent and potential that is easily taken for granted. Written off and pushed aside. Making way for my betters. Once I looked up and a single raindrop touched my open eye. I didn't question. Not that time. When I look up, I see my friends. Tear to tear, eye to eye...knocking the reason away from the question why?
