Transformations

The scenery she changes, years pass and it feels like the lows become lower, the pain heavier to bear. She keeps giving herself open endedly, hoping to find some piece of humanity. This big bad world she feels has eaten her alive, the leaves no longer green, and the air no longer fresh upon her tongue. None the less attempts are made, each day striven to see the green of the blades of grass, to remember the vivid blue and white whorls of the sky she will one day miss. It feels much like an old soul in a young persons body, and when she takes the bus the streets feel never ending. Will the foot prints last when all are gone? Will destruction continue to rain down upon this home of ours by our own hand? Will people beg for food and authorities shoot our youth? It feels like the world is spinning and staying still all within a moment. And the coldness within this heart bleeds only when all is silent. The default angered facial expressions forming a mask against everything. Too afraid to be honest with strangers for the tears would break her. Ruin it all. So yes these scenes keep moving, for how else would you survive? But the sadness inside is growing, as the world ignites it's hatred. And no one realizes it's all for one or nothing. I'll miss the wind in the sweeping grasses, the sheep in their meadow, the children squealing. Oh how I'll miss the freedom of carelessness. Because this world of ours keeps devolving... slowly, slowly into madness.