The Fairytales Were Better
The firelight flickers before us, soak it in; soak it up.
Waves of heat for directional disturbance through putrescent curtains
and towns that rise their own, these homeostatic homes.
Cold-blooded streets acting generators for generations
under sun and run by rubber worn down to undone.
Warm these bodies, boil the blood caught in closing veins;
no one knows. No one ever needs to know.
Feed us these lessons, copied then pasted depressions,
hand us our jobs; hard working individuals amidst personalized mobs
listen well; hear nothing then turn to tell: it's the same old story.
Saturate yourself, dear. Saturate the son, the first and second born.
Saturate your young and ignore them as they warn,
so spoiled we're deprived, half a century of complaints that died
from your voice to ours on passed, from now to then to memories won't last.
Forgetting your lessons to hug us in, thus the dangers in safety are so left hidden;
and for it we cry for something to fight for, from it we live for nothing to die for.
Blind we stumble in aggressors' arms, desperate to crumble under affordable ends;
again we cry wounded by unseen harms, repeatedly stumble in a health that un-mends.
So much to us sight left denied, traded out for what gratitude demands bearing,
that while begging to see clearly we're given our sheathe, to hide ourselves whilst the enemy is near
That unknown face and its opening ears, lest it might hear us and enforce confronting our fears...
So hidden we lay for years unto days until the mold's had it's time to correct on its own;
And left then we rest upon nothing that's known; so long we've had to forget the opponent,
that journeying to adulthood is not leaving the nest, but taking the raising from the parents' to your breast...
and then consider: if one cannot win the front in their head, regarding all that beyond... how well could they tend?