We chromed our selves, hiding away from the beautiful process of the sun, fearing the air and the world,
We locked ourselves into the silver future, waiting for hardness to soften into new and old dreams.
We built bridges from our heavy hearts, gated and guarded by the king of alphabetical order,
Denying admittance into our homes to the cat and the terrible mouse,
We feared the life of the long past, the twisted shape of the family tree.
We took the numbers from our doors, replacing them with tattooed letters of our hurt,
Hiding behind the factory of information, we exploded inwards for want of space,
Leaving the poor hands of time, to clear up the discussion and the mess.
Without recollection or care, time did the same thing with the hours and the night, pulling days from beneath our feet, breaking sunrise without service or reflection upon the woe another rendition of news could bring, searing the linings of our newly formed minds.
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