safe sounds run soft in this world. eyes shut running backwards but reaching for the sky, my hands touch the horizon, fingers grazing an almost liquified sky. i focus on how it feels, not how pretty it is, and when i touch it, i can feel the colours can feel the things it's seen. it has seen so much.

                   i cannot save us
                   from the type of destruction
                   in my heart and head.

it's all about the wrong green, you know. shattered mirrors can't see intentions, but everyone's trying to make the green and have the happiness they think it can buy. the sky kisses truths onto my fingertips. it tells me that it has seen too many men lost to greed. too many men chasing a feeling rather than chasing the honest thing of it all. maybe the greed consumes them because they go about life with their eyes shut.
                  
                       i am so sorry
                       but blindness is the skin
                       i made, and it bleeds

"don't use me as a warning sign there's a place a few miles from here, past the place that reeks of the weakness of men, they call it utopia but it is not free of all the things that eat men alive. those animals are just more tame here" the sky speaks these things and i believe them only because i need to believe that men aren't slaves to their own blind-hearted goals. safe sound ring as men fall victim to it all.
                    
                      i'm leaving today
                      not to find more of the green
                      but to feel safer

we paint pictures of a war nobody remembers, but the sky does. oh yes it whispers it's pain and cries because it's got so much to cry for. "i have seen the blood of everyone dead and will see the blood of everyone living shed on the grass. the quiet deaths are just another safe sound you learn to embrace when you are this old." my chest tightens. "but what about the stars? there are people who stare up at you stricken with grief and hope all at once." the sky laughs, cold. "it's not long," it says. "it's not long before someone tries to claim them too and hope will be gone and grief will remain.
        
                       i refuse to think
                       that there's nothing left to hold
                       on to when in grief