Molted plastic spaces
and melted plastic faces
all singing the same sad song.
With all of our demeaning
you'd think that our dreaming
would carry us all along.
But stay and smell the roses,
fight and bend the toses
and all the mocking is set free.
After ten sweet showers
our observation powers
fog in mirrors pretending glee.
Why then, my brethren,
do we ignore rhododendron
and keep all Ollie's oxen for me?
Are we so sick of dancing
that we fein joyful prancing
and pretend rather than be?
Let us learn in weeping
that broken heart seeping
is wings to let us fly.
If we hold all alone
and have bitter biting tone
we will starve and die.
Bleed on our brothers,
our sisters, fathers, mothers,
or those with bond as strong.
Until we can scream out
bite bullets and shout
we'll burst from silenced soul songs.
Forgo the gross methods
of false-strong intrepids
and let hugs unbind our leash.
When we admit weakness
our love can run ceaseless
and we'll finally feel the breeze.
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