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Somewhere
November 26, 2018
The compass is skewed,
The maps are torn apart,
So let’s find a place not once reviewed
By anons and mice with wires for hearts
Don’t follow the transmissions,
Electric souls or neon signs
For the billboard to it all is steady on white pine.
This place is an ornament,
A testament to our own lives.
Shiny, new, and special, but hollow on the inside.
No gold or power or hope,
No memories of better times,
Only eye-catching skin,
And a world of silence within.
So let’s escape and find a place
Where something real awaits.
© Josh W., Peoria, AZ
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