Birth of an Adult
by Guardian Angel One

When the temperature reaches 425 degrees you take me out and mark me up. You number me and own me. And when your temperature becomes uncomfortable you charge me for what I've never heard of, Never seen, Never thought but you seem to know. The fingers, the faces, the eyes Take away my color, my skies, my world You may drown and plunder mine to protect your sanity or your soul. Accuse a simple iris bloom for what it isn't. The tapestry has been woven and you believe you must cut it loose or forever die in the trying. Stand deaf in this barren world Weeping Hurting Intentionally Silently Unknowingly.