All the Children, All Insane.

Wondering who picked the color of grey streets

We walked infinitely, submerged inwards

Generations back, they called us poor thinkers

We wondered and pondered and unearthed

What made the once graceful nights lethargic

They don’t grasp the full moon anymore

As we march aimless, our hands spread wildly

Some of us dancing to the vibration in train tracks

I question the sanity of the land around

Well-oiled flesh suits running amok

Hearts so weak and the souls trapped

I show them the rising hair on the back of my neck

I’m labelled disabled, they snatch my heart away

I wasn’t careful; I let it dangle on my sleeve

My friends help me, only a few times

The night is expanding its arms tightly now

It’s quiet and I can smell her grip

My love is unspoken and buried, I try to give up

So I create a world to touch the blissful

*Jolted suddenly by this ghostly beauty

With sun in her skin so deep

Flowing red hair glistening, I almost weep

She has taken my hands softly

As she whispers feathery notes in my ear

 “You and me ? You, inexplicable lover. We’re rare.”

I stare intently with no intentions

I am lost, I am the breeze, I am the silence*

My friends are still rhythmically moving

 Now they sing too

“When the music’s over, turn out the lights”

And it’s too late, too late

So we wonder again

How to be insane

In a world so tragically sane.