a child trying to understand the world

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Your shelter, Your illusion coldblooded, halfhearted this eternal masquerade   You are wasted rotten with mirrors gold; reflections twisted, subconscious mold, ice-cold camaraderie.
If there is no one, standing back against the wall, Would we have it all?
I feel sick to live in a world like this My glass is not half empty It was drank before I was even born, Now I am stuck in a desert swallowing sand Tell me why it's okay
February 1, 2018   Dear World;   I saw a headline today. A sad truth typed across white canvas. Staring at my screen, the fluorescent sun of my singular universe, I urge the words to float away.
Why are there weapons of mass distructiosn Our we so caught up in takeing over do we not feel the love and compasion that we are born with Ready or not hear I come Im going to find you and make you better 
An antique frame with nothing inside Four cornered and bland hanging for the freedom of emptiness A bare-built shell challenging the curiosity of wholeness.   Imagine all the scraps
When did every birthday stop feeling like "the best birthday ever"? When did Christmas start to feel less of "holy cow presents!" And more "oh god family obligations”?
grow, feel and unite   a distant voice calls me there the will to survive  
Imagination. The picture. Everything we see. Is it just pictures. Imagination.   Imagination. Our minds. All work different. None like the other. Imagination.
If I was an inanimate object I wouldn't feel the things I feel But If I was an inanimate object Nothing would be quite as real I'd never be sad
We live in a world of confused kids Confused adults, love comes ,love goes We live in a world where hate comes before love, We live in a world where you don't really know
Christened by feathered leaves softly settle a silhouetted sleeping figure slowly covered peaceful, watchful endings.   And I dream of purity
When asked what I remember about my childhood, I will answer “smoke;” There’s a lingering, hovering cloud in all my most recallable memories.
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