A Beautiful Delusion
There are myths buried
In the safety blankets of childhood
That the real world comes along to shake out
Along with the rest of the dust.
These myths promised us freedom –
They said that if we were good,
If we ate our vegetables and went to bed on time,
We'd grow up big and strong,
And we'd be able to face anything.
It's a beautiful delusion.
But really we grow up to feel
Tiny and fragile;
Our bones are broken and mangled
Inside, and around our hearts,
Our veins are tied.
We're knotted messes,
Blinking in the sun,
Drowning in the rain,
Unable to run
From inevitable fear.
Clinging to our lasts hopes,
Weary with delusionary vision,
We hope for something inside of us
To burn this last illusion.
They should have told us the truth
When we were young.