It’s a beautiful dance we engage in, an intricate illusion to be sure
the most becoming coming of age fairytale,
It’s a stunning tale to behold
one of truth, of love, of something better than we held before
the threatening reality pushes us to determinately cling, trying to grip the memory of what was
watching it slide in a strikingly sorrowful manner down our hands caressing our veins, teasing our life, as the tomorrows cease to be bright and our womb life before living is our finest delight
It was the once real hope who’s skeleton we now masquerade about attempting to replenish the life it once held, it was progress for something other, someone other than ourselves.