I hate that you think that way
I hate that is how you see the world
Digits and place holders
Dividers and classifications
I want to beat down your door
But once I get to it
Something is wrong
Familiar
It’s my own
I’ve started to look through the same foggy glass
Newly polished to look tarnished
Aging in the corner
Collecting dust in the creases of my mind
I’m starting to see people by their value
And label ways of living right and wrong
Inevitable
Truth or accepted deception
Propaganda swallowed whole
Eating our own young before they have the chance to hatch and show us they can fly
I never meant to give up my dreams
I was told it’s what we all do
Thirty is too old
after all
to fall in love
And see the world
Still dreaming in color
High above the clouds
I’ll see you in the morning
Coloring within the lines
