December 1, 2011
I asked my mother if I could fly,
she said i would fall.
Does it matter if I cry?
No, not at all.
I asked my mother if I should smile
she said to just look down.
I hoped that I could set the dial,
and to leap above the ground.
I dreamt about the sweet wind
carressing my stricken face.
Then I jolt, and to her whim
I meet her cold embrace.
I asked my mother if I should dream
she said to keep my silence.
The ocean skies had lost it's gleam
for the world is only violence.

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