back turned, a neutral composure, a hint of irritation

when polite smiles dig a little deeper

because the superficial is manifest when the cake

is the prize.

just being used, warming the seat, trickery

and lip service becomes the currency of exchange

but the protestor is adamant,

a reminder of golden ages that never persisted

because the waves come from inside,

old parts no longer providing a function for the living.

new fruits emerge, calling with sharpness, becomes disconcerting

a cacophony of many wants beings masked as needs

and what used to work no longer does,

already the wings have sprouted, longing to fly

unable to.

make the leap, jump, the drop is something to feel

giddy about,

all long for golden parachutes and the ones holding

those smile and say not enough, though it comes

along as it means nothing, yet they cling on to

those life saving apparatus, sure sounds like hypocrisy.

in this day and age, it has become norm

to speak like that, waves wash over rocks

not even breaking a tiny crack, a fissure to be formed

for the surface is smooth, i have become your reflection

no longer wary of changes, of the unknown, of the cursed drop

falling, is all i have learned with

those funny looking inflatables suddenly puffing up

not everyone gets dashed to pieces

at least not externally,

as for the rest – this isolation of wanting more

is simply a price, of growing up, of taking the forbidden fruit

:knowledge. does not redeem.

the soul, and yet childhood’s end a trajectory

unavoidable, do i really want to remain the child?

independence, becoming our own captains,

isolation fades, a faint reminder of what used to be.