Brother,
It's severely strained me to not say sorry
every five seconds because
I cannot answer all of the questions
causing the fog within your skull.
I can't provide these answers
not because I don't want to
or don't know how
it is because I simply cannot.
I'm constantly held at gunpoint
by your elder teachers
who want to keep you polished
in the same state on a shelf
for them to watch.
They don't realize you're constantly
surrounded by kinks in their plan.
Your ears aren't in tune
to hear the evening news.
You haven't learned to digest reality.

You know,
I've always found it odd that
prostitutes practice their profession
in the same places
that kids play pick up sticks
near parents who promise themselves
to protect them
by dressing them up in ignorance.
By lying to their faces
and telling them about the stork
or Santa Claus.
To keep them "pure".
Preserve "innocence".
How does it help to raise your child like a bird.
Keeping them in a wire cage,
to sit on a wooden swing for hours
while they wait for daily meal
and swig of water.
They have wings for a reason.
Calling this "freedom" would be a disgrace.
Let your fowl fly free into the warmth of earth
and explore with guidance
to become new.

Artists do not buy canvases to keep them blank.
Galleries all over the world aren't filled untouched with sheets of white.
Artists buy canvases to create something beautiful.
Let your children become something beautiful.