Truth ignites indeed
There is no “I” in the beginning of a story
Yet truth ignites smoldering through content,
As varnish burns, the shelf’s not even worried
For otherwise he’d show his visceral resent.
Now needs are present, to point the finger at
Those devilish impressions, diluted and confined
Is this a time to punish the naive, spoiled brat,
Now when the odds are severed and feelings unrefined?
I miss the times when stories all started with an “I”
So much that I…I wish I could forget,
Back when the kids and grown-ups still looked up to the sky
And used to aim the clouds all tucked in the same bed.
If there’s one chance not twenty, a flicker to imply
That kids and grown-ups will ever live as one,
Today I will be angry, tomorrow I would fly…
And soon the ageless war will just be waged for fun.