How are we rendered?

Are we taught to fly

by the chained seat

and seesaw?

Are we taught to

befriend by the

groans of Eeyore?

Are we taught to

break when you

leave the room?

When shoulders

slump in a

kaleidoscope gloom?

Are we baffled

by words, tied

up in a knot,

like algebra


dot dot dash dash dot dot?

Are we scrawled

on a pair of cold,

knitted gloves?

Is there peace to be found

on the wings

of a dove?

Does that laughter

echo in our caves

so hollow?

Is that the only

pill we’ll find a

comfort to swallow?

Can we stay here forever

where the sun never sets

and the ticking is drowned

‘neath squeaking swing-sets?



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