a dull hood

A heavy heart
constricted frown
eyes are always looking
down
words are spoken
quietly
slow dances
of compliancy

Terrorized
naïvity
crying behind
drapery
a blindly yelling
spinning thruth
one last farewell
to our youth

Shards immersed
in dreamy glitter
sweetly quarters
turning bitter
all aboard
the train of thoughts
a Pointilist
its long left dots

Forgotten wins
in dusty frames
from beloved
hopping games
just that meanwhile
you can feel
the floor is lava
now for real

when did life became a tightrope-walk?