Slow as the thunder cries,
Fast as the rain sleeps,
Gone like the little birds,
Blowing in the breeze.

You don't hate yourself
because of the
shape of your nose,
angle of your eyes,
length of your arms,
or size of your waist.

Your self hatred
runs so much deeper
than those things.
And
Your self worth
runs even deeper.

Busy streets of China town,
busy folks with their heads down
busy people blowing cigarette smoke.
We'll sneak past the man
and run as fast as we can
to hop on the train because we're broke.

You're sat next to a crazy
and though this Sunday should be lazy,
we've taken on another task.
You shelter me away from the homeless,
but we're too ignorant to notice
the irony as we drink from a flask.

Too young to not be reckless,
but too old to be this senseless
when it comes to ignoring the label
that illustrates blackened lungs and hearts
Still, we ask strangers for darts
to get the cheapest high available.

They say the human world is a mess,
but we'll accept nothing less
than all the adventure life has to share.
Obsessed with our youth,
unsure of the truth
but too madly in love to care.

Something ironic about dreaming of freedom while smoking a cigarette.

Our mortal sins and fatal flaws,
our selfishness for "the better cause".
Our greed, our envy and lust,
our desire for acceptance, our ignorant trust.
Our broken promises and tainted lies,
the human race, the smog filled skies.