We are buried underneath our memories,
Never mind the dirt
There are photographs stapled to our skin
Because we live in the past
We write endless poetry
Searching for a sliver of talent
We wonder and dream
Of a world which doesn’t crumble beneath us
We hang on the arms of friends
Wishing they were real
We insinuate our feelings
Scared of the worlds reaction
We lie to save ourselves
We are human
We are.
