“The Lost Parade”

all the colors turn into red behind the street

I hear a million sirens reach out for me

pinned in silence they make that choice

process emotions like broken skin

stare across the needle to break the balloons apart

my veins have turned behind every blue and black

reach for the photographs behind every wall

bright as a daydream

bright as the morning sun

fall through the water to swim the pain away

every depth of broken glass in your hands

memories falling towards the ground

an ash of declaration

children run across the sky to the lost parade

remember when we used to color the distance?

they pull splinters through their hair

machines start to walk through the sand

men march with magazines pinned through their eyes

every word pressed through the skin

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