this is the year that youth dies
born into the world in the air
flying high
balloons embedded in flesh to keep afloat
docile and naive
with each spurt of growth a balloon pops
propelling one closer to the ground that has come to embody fear itself
the misery that can be caught in every parents eye
for the first time being fully realized
no fairy tale ******* could redeem those juvenile days that could have been stolen
by the weight of all the bills and capitalist charades that fly through their accredited slot
accumulating into a mountain that in return deliver a crippling anxiety and a life of caution
A day can only be seized so long until night falls
cant fly back into the atmosphere
when the balloons have broke
and youre grounded