The world is soft,

One blurred cloud of colors.

The world is clean;

The beautiful gleaming sun

Shines on all the green.

Glamourous people, their eyes

Are shining stars.

The cloud factory creates

Billowous figures that decorate the heavens.


Then I was given clarity.


The world is sharp,

With cutting, straight lines

And jagged edges that cut.

The sun hurts and burns

My eyes and skin.

It exposes the filth and impurity

In the weeds.

The Humans look at me with their eyes:

Cold, hard, and glinting.

Pollution grows in the atmosphere.


I was given reality.