The shadows have dimmed to a purple now that the bombs have gone out to play. Clouds once white have whimpered away and found this world has lost its recipe and the gift’s repair has outlived its warranty. We trusted ourselves with our own rationings and backed them with actions we knew we could accept for the moment as we faced the masses, trying so desperately to cover the lies. We have not found what it is we thought we wanted, and as I’m assured by my own conscience, we doubtfully even remember for what we strived after we became conscious of our misdoings. Our aspirations have evaporated in our dreams for tomorrow, and that diligence is lost to that one foolish and immediate moment we now hold in remorse.

The smoke has had its way.

Blue skies have found their way into darkness, stumbling along a path of no return. The veil that has been cast in front of our eyes has brought to our minds what we’ve buried. The realization that our cause is lost rises to the surface. Admittance is not an option because our pride has taken the wheel, and spiral as we might our tank has not yet taken the fall, the cliff remains unscarred, the guardrail unbroken.

Yet, as we manage to uphold our righteous image, within our homes the floor curls behind us, creating a wall that will not crumble, a mistake that can never be undone, until at last the hopelessness finds its way into our heart and the tears fall, drowning us like never before beneath waves of ignominy and mounting terror of the verdict that awaits, the verdict of which we know the sentence.

For those whose path we’ve laid, they seek the surface with watchfulness, forever

engraved in their memory the losses they’ve endured, the future we’ve led astray in the wilderness, but as has disappeared from our sights, they maintain faith. Victory will one day come. Autonomy hovers so close to their charred hands. Why then are we the ones that have been burned?

Perfection has felt the flame.