don’t be afraid to touch the sky.
The only feeling left
are self-pity and self-hate.
I wonder why I can’t be great.
Rocks of silver and gold hide,
out of sight, chained by chains of love,
wrapped like a red serpent,
constricting and constructing
temples and bombs, symbols
of hope and destruction.
Behind the curly oils, rainbow colors,
hides a face, but not just a face
a door into a new vision,
a new smell, a new aura,
a new, we are born anew.