what tomorrow brings.

ii. the invasion of adulthood.

ii. THE INVASION OF ADULTHOOD.

because there are more broken bones than swollen hearts. black and blue spots and fallen dreams. school yards full of suicidal teens and children spitting words that burn the skin of their victim like venom on their tongue. closeted boys swinging from rusted ropes and pregnant teenage girls with more slices on their arm than you can keep count. heroine needles on playgrounds, iced blue veins screaming underneath bruised skin from the abused wondering when they'll finally be loved. college kids swallowing empty bullet shells and young adults intoxicated in hope of forgetting how empty they are. hearts beating hard enough to rattle the bones of someone who believes that at any moment they are going to fall apart, concrete floors holding up the knees of the broken souls, the cracks creating rivers with their own tears. ocean waves crashing to shore reaching for all the glory that the world has to offer, but instead only finding the sand covered toes of someone who has thought more than once about drowning. meaningless sunsets, unfulfilling moonlights, the stars weeping for all that it has come to. because there is more lost than wander, pain than beauty, sadness than the joy that radiates from baby photos and old vhs tapes of a childhood spent happy. in the end, we are nothing less than made up of bad habits and glass bones, a mourning soul and forgotten mind. nameless faces more than just tired, but sad from all the burdens that come with all that the world offers. empty, scarred skeletons hoping they'll finally find more comfort under a tombstone than under the glow in the dark stars that stare at them from the ceiling, reminding them of the how the world has consumed all the good that was left in them. snap in half innocent crayola crayons resembling just how easy the dreams you once had are now buried with the childhood you once thought would last forever. everything you have grown to known, locked away, nailed shut in a wooden coffin, suffocating under all the realities of adulthood.

this is the continuation of chasing dim stars while hopeless ones lay still in your eyes. this is the start of annual visits to the grave that holds everything you had ever known.

the world only holds lost, broken children with vacant ribcages hoping one day to be pleased with careers and money and fancy sports cars, only to find happiness when their body begins to decay and they are left with more hopeful stars through the cracks of their stiff coffin than the ones they had cried out and left behind in a life unfulfilled.

all the good, all the happiness,
all the good and happiness that comes from childhood.

where have all the children gone?