the generation

I waited.

Even though they tore my skies apart.

I cleaned the ashes of the burned stars.

And waited.

The shadows of the city are closing in.

Fake light is pouring through the window.

"Am I enough?" the words are echoing in my memory.

The light is bruising my skin, your skin, his skin.

The sky is crying, she used to say.

I'm searching for foes among my friends.

My human friends.

Human people made of paper.

My dreams were buried under waterfalls

And I searched for hope on the blazing fires of their brains,

Creating sapphires as I walked; I tore Gods apart,

I refused me salvation.

White hair on young faces.

"Who was wrong?" the words are piercing through my shade.

You should pull yourself from the rain.

But I'm dehydrated.

Others cover themselves from the water.

Because they're paper.

And paper people melt in the rain.

M.