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.