Stars splashed against the night sky.
The watercolor wishes
brushed gently upon what we thought as our reality.
Terms and conditions of
where they would end up, that they not be lost forever, but maybe a farewell
for a short time.
We have reconciliation with those who have passed. T
hose in
line next to us who have the ok to go ahead and explore the unknown universe.
We are jealous, but why? We will get our chance when the timing is sincere.
When the envelope opens and our name is printed on it. We will be golden we
tell ourselves. Perfect for the job.
Adventurer in the soul and body, a
survivor in the min
Cherry tips and velvet
lips, we are all a part of the board game we play.
Wouldn’t you agree? If I was
but 3 and you art 5, then in time you would presume to be called first in our
line. I’m sorry to say only the young croak alone.
Secret whispers upon the
second.
My name is called and yet I am unready. I have practiced and played my
part a bystander if ever relevant and now here I am they are calling my name
and I will secure the line.
We are tormented by the time we have thought up.
We
are heartbroken in the moments we consider a life. Don’t forget the trembling
of toes, never let up on the quivering of the tip of your nose.
We are all consigned
one day to be more than a commoner.
Delved into our perspectives of life and
leisure, our entrance into adulthood was nothing other than a welcome mat, worn
from usage, tired from belonging.
Turns out not all heroes are born. Their
delivered. As if to say we can choose our path rather than our journey decides
for us. I am a child, a woman living amongst the adolescence of man. For all we
know we our destined road is that of unfortunate experiences.
What is calling you?
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