The clueless blue skies stare.

In their oblivion they are beautiful.

They seem to think that life is fair,

That hope is innate, hearts are whole.

But if only the knew of war....

The snow encases the earth,

It's alabaster sheen the color of chronic innocence.

An innocence that it thinks cannot be tainted,

With lies, scorn, deceit, and pain.

But if only it knew about death....

The rain washes down on the earth,

Trying to cleanse, to make a newness in nature,

Just like great tears are meant to cleanse souls.

I only wish all tears were cleansing.

Our human nature won't let perfection exist....

True happiness exists only in ignorance.

Life is only fair in fairytales.

And hope is won over by pure stubbornness,

Only given to those who refuse to relinquish it.

So those blue skies must have no idea....

And the heart is never left whole,

It is simply pieces stuck together like a patchwork quilt.

Repaired after each un-mend-able heart break,

With the needles of anger and the thread of time.

No ones heart is without a scar or stitching...

Innocence is a disease, just waiting to perforate.

The purity will melt like snow in the spring,

And tempts evils to taint what is pure,

With anguish, hurt, dishonesty, and venom.

Purity cannot exist where there are humans...

And tears can breed as much anger as clarity,

As they pour down with no understanding.

Only confusion lost in the deep depths of

Nothing to gain, nothing to lose, in the pit of despair.


Let's face it, there is no peace.

As long as there is life to swallow us whole.

But we might as well make it the best we can.

Because, like it or not we're stuck.

In this losing control, letting it go,

Trying to hold on,

When we know that we can't,

Existance.