the way I use to see the world - c. 2021

I miss the way I use to see the world.

In the fragmented crypt of my brain

is a sea of speckled memory.

bright eyes and a cheesed smile

taken away by the harsh reality of being a 

sacrifice. for the great or good

of generational healing.

picking up the pieces embedded in me. happily given

to those who were created

before me. the curiosity and inquisitiveness of a bee.

seeing the world with bright eyes.

long forgotten are those eyes. beaten to death

and trampled. replaced with indulgence, caution, a need for power,

and tact.

the innocence of a child

is like liquid gold. the components of innocence flourishes when left

unscathed.

battered and broken it slowly dissipates. Into a fearful, 

pressure filled confusion.

I miss the way I use to see the world.