We brought into this world
with big eyes,
ambition in our peripheral.
Swearing a future of
lustrous, kaleidoscope reflections.
But your trailing colors
only collide broken glass.

Raised amid Sunday morns
that preached our passed-down
heritage.
You learned to bleed nothing but gold.
The very pillow feathered fibers
founding our twilight illusions,
pulsated through your veins.

But when your footsteps began
trespassing secondhand morals,
that relentless toddler
pioneering carpet wonderlands,
is now crusading beyond our domain.

Unborn sin inflates tattered, ivory lace
draping your petite frame.
Denial still suffocates
each of your vows.

Our eyes were caught stargazing
at only orbiting satellites.
Rotating the same delusions
each passing night.