The Line in the Sand

silhouette of a mother and son who play outdoors at sunset background

pure and clean

fun and carefree

it’s how we describe the ones we want to be

the innocent

the beautiful

the young

because everyone trusts the young, right?

we whisper secrets in front of their faces

but whenever they show a glint of wonder

we turn away and say “nothing”

because they don’t take any responsibility, right?

as we, the treacherous world, continue our fights

our wars

our battles

our divorces

until they’re dripping with tears at night

because they don’t have any power, right?

right.

their burning eyes of curiosity only gleam brighter

with confidence between right and wrong

they take in their surroundings

with no line drawn between mind play and reality

their mouths never stop moving

as they say what they think is

the difference between right and wrong

and because their mouths never stop moving

our world tears apart from the insides

as their world gravitates love from the outside

and now we have lost the power

as it now lies in the hands of the young

“oh, the young,

such beautiful idiots!”

we scream as we grovel in our self-pity

but how are we any different?

we whisper secrets to the point of rumor

we desperately tie ourselves to the spotlight

we care about ourselves more than we think

we love power

power.

and how is power handled?

it was “well-balanced” in our lives

but now it’s in the hands of those beautiful idiots

the one who now control both our worlds

if no one can draw the line in the sand

between power and weakness

if no one can draw the line in the sand

between right and wrong

then who will draw the line in the sand

to define the only time of maturity?

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