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by Logan
Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2104889
Don't grow up, its a trap ;)
Journeys

You'll see me on the top deck
Sitting at the front
The boy who never grew up
Round a life so dull and blunt
It never came as advertised
With promises oft broke
and lies sold in their places
With stories told and spoke
Spoke for those who listen
Those desperate for song
Be cautious, things that glisten
Can often turn out wrong
But fools they mass like magpies
Where gold and silver shine
Places where the heart lies
and souls morosely pine
As minds crochet proceedings
Designs we love and loathe
It's freedom that we're ceding
These emperor's new clothes
With fabric sewed, a hazard
With threads loose in the weave
A tapestry spun backward
To train, restrain, deceive
An illusion of autonomy
Where architects can hide
'tween ley lines hearts cannot see
… or counted on, relied
A freelance impresario
The lies between the text
A peter pan scenario
That isn't that complex
As fantasy fills pitfalls
Tools these truths just lack
Reality so harsh it calls
Escaping out the back
and bolting to the window
Where my mind for treasure, hunts
If you need me I will be upstairs
Staring out the front
© Copyright 2016 Logan (stipey at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2104889