Close the door on the outside world <br />paranoid tentacles can only reach so far- <br />Like a dog on a chain. <br />Warnings used to come to us through burning <br />beacons, technology has changed all that, <br />it seems a muder can reach you before it <br />has even been commited- a minority report. <br />One can not leave their shell without feeling <br />exposed, the birds circle above our heads. <br />We are walking on eggshells, with steel toe <br />capped boots. I blame the trains, before <br />them we lived in a blissfull state of ignorance. <br />We are slowly seeping into our foundations <br />we are forming fortresses to keep out the <br />world, in a state of hysteria, wrapping our <br />kids in denial, these blankets undfold after <br />the twighlight years, slowly we are becoming <br />the ornaments that stand in fragile uncertainty <br />on our shelves. In our little boxed edens <br />we submerge ourself into the fading embers <br />of beauty, watering ourselves to an unkown source <br />hoping for an answer to spring from the soil <br />and smile like they did in the books our parents <br />kept of their parents, of their parents lives.<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-first-thoughts-of-the-day/
