Your lens is                                                                                 your language
       hurting you faster                                                        to write words
              broken                                       ­                                 beauty                          ­ 
                    slowed to a                perfect                   wonder
               ­              which could                       be called
                                                          ­  ?

                                                     Impossi­ble.
                                                      Throwi­ng
                                                         honest
                                                        ch­ildren                                                                                                    ­                                                                 ­                   
                                                           into                             
                               ­                           some
                                                      dead thing
                                                      that lingers
                                                      on through
                                                         ­ all this
                                                       and takes
                                                        the form
                                                            of a
                                                        question.