The Derision of Man

Erika C. 10th - Oakland, CA
Golden drops of sunlight fly from the sky
Fleeing from the most dreadful way to die
Because in this twisted reality low is really high 
You walk around with teardrops plastered in your eyes
But they never really notice it always takes them by surprise

A rose blooming, so beautiful and such
Until it starts to wither just at her touch 
She braces herself and leans on him as a crutch 
The darkness creeps in the light no longer much 
Her hair falls, grey until he has her in his clutch 

Open and close the window goes
Always disappointed when all it shows
That we don’t prepare ourselves for our foes
And our highs are just really lows
So we think we do but no one really knows