these days have come
when eyes fall out to be replaced by screens
that flash with flawed images —
the damaged girls are painted over with pretty words
and the boys who dare to cry are shoved under beds —

and they grow up in the abominable world
believing the deafening noises
that taunt from all sides.

and grief is given more often than flowers.
have we forgotten the flowers?

and still we wonder why the children don't play outside —
there are enough monsters in their heads.
the doubts grow daily like weeds:

(seeds sown in schools and through TVs)
you are small, you are weak, you are ugly, you are stupid, you are wrong.

you are nothing.
 

and in the haze of smoke an...

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