Poems I write
Nothing but alright
Average and lame
Everything's the same

Am I really one of them?
Is it really opened?
Am I even welcome?
Or is it just a lie?

A lie that I believed
To think I’d be deceived
For a door half opened, half closed
Not everyone can come in.

a hole in the sky
where gold, pink and orange dust enters
a spotlight
for three billion simultaneous plays