LAURA KARNIVA

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Remember when we were only children,

Playing godless truant on those stony steps,

Worldly worries second to a broken mast,

Of the wooden ship on our elder’s desk.

 

Yet we longed to age, to grow mature,

Like tired petals on a springtide flower.

Dreams of exemption, liberty from our youth,

With baby dolls and shopping carts,

Sweet medicine upon our tooth.

 

But why didn’t we believe our elder’s pledge?

Of a bleak horizon beyond our fledge?

Instead we pretended to be ill,

Swallowing down those violet pills.

 

Every monster needs one face,

But under the bed you’ll find a human race,

Made of all those people who never really cared.

They evaded you when you failed to cope,

And tomorrow’s storm brought no hope.

 

What once were palms of innocence,

Now fall to palms of violence.