Hatred grows like the hairs that rise on our skin.
Our teeth fall as we count stars
back when we were innocent,
clueless, sticky-handed,
we knew nothing
except to always tie our shoes
and look both ways when crossing.
Holding our breath underwater
counting the seconds.
We reached the clouds that those who were taller than us tried to place way up high,
but the taller we got the closer the clouds got
and now the clouds are no longer
pink or blue or white,
but now the clouds are dark storm clouds
filled with the hatred that the world is telling us to have,
the clouds keep raining and this is the only time we wished for a drought.
When we would stay up half an hour late we would overhear the news,
News about wars, assault and the unspeakable
words and concepts we didn’t yet understand flooded our ears,
words that we will add to our clueless vocabulary.
Our parents’ late-night arguments,
make our thoughts louder
and makes it harder for us to concentrate.
Twinkle twinkle little star how I wonder where you are?
The world has gone dark.
Where are the stars
that made the clouds part and the moon hide?
When we never knew,
That ring around the rosie pocket full of posies ashes ashes,
were from those who died from the plague,
when humpty dumpty was no longer an egg but a canon,
and Jack didn’t only lose his crown but his head.
We’d hear words that were whispered under someone's breath
as they bang their
head and shoulders knees and toes.
Dark twisted meanings behind rhymes from our childhood,
where innocence went to die
and where hatred danced until the sun rose.