Nothing here deserves a proper mention.
Never minds are forever trapped inside;
kids, their hearts ensnared within detention
for all their tears just force themselves to hide.
Non-existent tear content on finger,
complacent for a home in which they lay;
frozen cries turn icy in December,
evicted from the home in which they stray.
Purple lungs are sick from surplus breathing,
spirit laughs and surreal hanging limbs,
refusal to think within a feeling
and memories reside within their sins
Lies and life: a possession that they own;
the kids of whom are stranded all alone.