a good one – like utopia

with nothing to worry about.

food on the table, a roof

over the head

and lots of barbie dolls

or toy solders.

then the veil is shifted

with teenagers questioning why

with solemn adults

pledging the fifth.

it’s not family law,

but the adult is already

set in belief.

no sooner then the wind shifts

again with teenagers

becoming solemn adults

staring at nothing.

nothing gives,

with a tug and pull,

with a cake set to be squared away:

you know. divided.

and hungry dogs

salivate.

what’s for me?

but the divider is cut in heaven,

and hell –

with onlookers touching skin.

flawless. or ugly.

it works. till the silence becomes

a voice.

don’t do this. don’t do that

and one bad egg spoils the rest.

cast those dozen away.

and onlookers they go on with

activities mundane. suddenly busy

when they were meant to take a break.

it’s smart, it’s human nature.

don’t ask. don’t tell.

till it becomes a deafening voice –

of silence. it cuts. it hurts.

this game we play –

nothing is amiss, nothing is awry,

it’s just another news gone fake.

but hey, don’t ask me,

why. when games are played:

because the silence is real,

with childhood erased,

and because serious issues have arisen.

who gets what?

and then who takes what?

on and on – till the crescendo subsides

with a stale water left untouched,

the nice people are at merry parties

making small talk – nothing is amiss.

that’s the problem.