From beginning to end,
There are no gray areas.
In between it all lays truth,
Yet truth can often lie in between the fiction.

So where does this lead us;
Into a twisted reality? Or troubled dream?
A nightmare on earth that hides in hate and love?

No.
Rather a lack of understanding,
A clear view of the concept,
But a mere distance away from grasping it.

Everything and Nothing is abstract.
Shear works of art written in the documents,
Signed by the blood and tears.

The uphill battle,
Children pushed away.

The poker face,
Emotions thrown aside.

Lawyers. Stress.
Time stretched like a rubber band beyond elasticity.

It never snaps,
Your heart will stop thinking it might,
But it doesn't.

The hurt is distributed through my fathers stress.
The tears through my mother’s eyes.
All is lost, everything is gained.

With faces of youth in every scene,
The dream of peace passes mind.

The brother,
Staying quiet and still.
His eyes floating in the mixed level of emotions.

The sisters,
One with the scars at the heart of it all.
And the other too young to know what’s going on.

And me.

Too numb to notice,
Too careless to feel the pain.

Till it builds.

The knives of emotions come through the pores.
The ink falls from the fingertips onto the page.

There are no gray areas.
All of it is abstract.
Yet once again, all of it is nothing.

At the heart of it all.