No Dice

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Life Incarnate

Written October 1, 2014

We are remembered for our failures

For our inability

To do something correctly

Artists

Are only known after they’re dead

And politicians, God forbid

Always blame everything on one another

Utopia

Is a false misconception

Perfection

Is nothing more than being who you are

If we treated each other with respect

Parents wouldn’t have to bury their children

This generation

Is a compilation

Of beautiful ingenuity

And mismatched socks

I remember when we all played in the same sandbox

With the same innocence

Plastered on our clothes

We finger-painted our souls with Sharpies

The permanence held strong

At least until we stopped being young

And our view points

Started pointing fingers at one another

Even though we were told that staring is rude

And pointing is wrong

And you have to take responsibility for everything you’ve done

But this is not the case

Our wide eyes will keep gawking

Like we are six years old at a candy store

Wanting to taste the sensation of a lollipop too big for our hands to hold

We are all cut from the same mold

Sculpted by the hands of our ancestors

With nicks and chips

Scratched on our life sized surface

Because we all fell when we rode our bikes for the first time

And we all danced with rulers between our stomachs

Arms locked stiff

Waiting for a hurricane of music

To let our young bones give way

To the weight of expectations on our shoulders

We are not Atlas

We cannot bear to carry that boulder

But we could care less

About dancing across a stage in our underwear

We care more about people getting shot and our troops getting murdered

Whoever said we were selfish?

They don’t know about half the things we believe in

Nor do they care to trust our reasoning

This world is going to keep spinning

Even if it needs an oxygen mask

To keep living