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Mar 13
monuments that are made of moonlight, fading into the day;
a mind as an hourglass, sand that cannot empty; a sandman
who visits you when you are awake, rubbing an irrational dream
into the corner of your eye; a rash that is psychosomatic,
the path that cannot be taken, taken; the ****** path

your own Boulevard of Broken Dreams, your own Green Day;
a wind of lyrics pushing you forward, while you remain planted,
as if a plant; roots that root against you; ground that, likewise,
grounds you the way parents do; an eternal childhood; a world
you cannot grow up "in"; a world you can only grow out of.
Written by
stylesclash  28/M/USA
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