The Illusions of Youth

a handful a heartful but what part is the truth dissolved and discarded like salt in your soup and you can never get it back even if you wanted to because you simply don't want it back. it flies away you shoot it down it crawls away you shoot it down it scurries down you shoot it to hell you did well and no one's proud of you grow up bamboo torture execution get things done what are you gonna do about it? what you've always done and the cars hit walls and the cars hit cars fighting to be the next to die in the ouroboral desert race eating themselves, eating each other fighting to be the next to die a handful dissolved and discarded they fly away you shoot them to hell they run away you shoot them to hell waiting in line to be shot to hell you did well and no one's proud of you. you dwelled on the illusions and reduced yourself to mere salt and you can never wash it off