Kingdome of the Outsiders
I had a paper kingdom as a child.
The marauders always totted torches.
At times they'd tunnel beneath the walls.
Bringing palms of fire to my little boy behind.
But it was a fairly decent childhood.
Childhood is the shortest chapter of all.
Aside from death, this is the bluest of all the laws.
I left the paper Kingdom.
That's when life really began to gnaw.
Adulthood involves building a stronger Kingdom.
To protect the hatchlings from the outsiders.
Often it is another paper Kingdom because you're stretched thin.
You succeed somewhat, as the hatchlings shine at times.
Sometimes they inhale your dust and exhaust.
Then they gladly leave you far behind in your darkness.
The walls are all gone. One piece of paper at a time.
The ratio of silence to laughter grows ever greater.
Everything and everyone leave you sooner or later.
There are no more paper-walled kingdoms to build.
The cold takes notice and moves in for the slow kill.
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