we plant white lies like seeds in the fertile soil of stories—
perfect as a magic bean, we’ll climb skyscraper-high
to a world of gods and giants.
when reality sets in, cold as a vise and just as tight,
it’s unsurprising we cling desperately to soothing fictions.
given enough hope and rope, we’ll tie our own noose.
we’ve memorized the plot-lines,
can trace the hero’s journey
as the veins in our hands.
in fairy tales and holy texts, they say,
“love will save the day.” but i have never met
someone who can take the pain away.
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
we plant white lies like seeds in the fertile soil of stories—
perfect as a magic bean, we’ll climb skyscraper-high
to a world of gods and giants.
when reality sets in, cold as a vise and just as tight,
it’s unsurprising we cling desperately to soothing fictions.
given enough hope and rope, we’ll tie our own noose.
we’ve memorized the plot-lines,
can trace the hero’s journey
as the veins in our hands.
in fairy tales and holy texts, they say,
“love will save the day.” but i have never met
someone who can take the pain away.
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