Is there anyone
in the universe
of fools
and desperate lovers
who can say
why?
If they quite jumping
dying
screaming
and laughing
could there be
a white blurred purple moment
where giraffes fly,
a brush can speak of beauty,
all the turtles live to reach the ocean,
and the inner soul
becomes the outside image?
Where time can tell us
why it flies when we most wish it
to freeze?
Suffocation bleeds oxygen
and energy drips exhaustion.
Things are always never
what they seem
and even the purest of angels
lie.
But can they tell us?
‘Tell us what?’
Tell us why
the beauty is always hidden fear.
Why anger is red
and peace is blue.
Why the systems
never have human components.
Why belts have untold memories,
boys speak of fairytales while
girls speak of disaster, and
why one sock is always lost.
And why does the world
appear to be soaked in red
when it was once a vibrant
blue?
If they can escape a self-absorbed selflessness
can they answer
my questions?
-Haley
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