Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

where does existence go?

it’s when we are older
that we realize the value of a tree house
with passwords and hidden tin boxes of cookies and chips
when work, money and life slips us the finger –
hacking our life accounts and pulling it apart and into shreds
our heads become our only hideout, quite sad –
instead of filled with dreams now filled with lead and ink
we’ve gone mad with
the things we believe we should think because of
societal status quo
when in reality who really knows
where it all goes, where is everything‘s hideout?
the one we all know is out there but know nothing about?

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: hideout

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