Note To Self

A stream of thoughts trickle through
The mountainous mind.
Fleeting fling things,
Robbing sincerity of its certainty.

Bred in the captivity of a classroom,
Creativity is coaxed back into its box with a simple
‘Time to grow up!’
Tumbling truths hop scotch,
Tick tock, tick tock.

Childlike abandon replaced with
Alphabetically ordered ambiguity.
Licked by labels, our mouths dry,
As time goes by.

Dressed up demons playing show and tell
With pixelated faces, false grace.
Strange truths fed to youths hungry for answers;
A white lie still casts a dark shadow.

Forgotten is the beauty of fragility.
A dragonfly dances in the forest
His wings fluttering like eyelashes flirting with the twilight sky,
Dismissed as a waste of time.

Shape and colour move as one,
Clouds brush lightly against the setting sun.
As the winds begin to whisper,
I sit with this fairy light forest;
I need to know what is truly honest.