When we were young

Halcyon days of tempestuous youth,
In a land bathed in summer sun,
A world without care,
Clothed in the protection of softest wool,
Shielded from the horrors of living,
Ears closed to unkind words,
And inhuman acts,
But later, to burst from this cocoon,
Our existence of warmth,
Screaming in to the dark of abhorrent evils,
To sink or swim, sucked down by the fiendish nature of mankind, To swallow the foul bile of real life,
Seeping in to your very soul,
Contaminating this childish view,
With the stench of crippled spirits,
Fallen long before, only remembered by pungent memories, The soil beneath our feat sapping our will to carry on, Faces of the weak litter our path,
The mud a mix of ashes and spilt blood,
A quagmire to swallow you, lost forever in a struggle to be free, But in this life of terminal bondage,
Of freedom only for the free,
Our only consolation and ray of hope,
One day it will be over.

A little ode to the carefree time of youth, and the bludgoning spirit of the real world.

Purpleheart perfume atomiser. More at Bespoke Woods Facebook page.

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