The Brave Grow Old

Blankets of clouds cover the earth like Serenity has come to tuck us all in.

But the war on peace blockades such sleep. We lay in concrete jungles and crush the dreams of future roses because our buds are more important.

It’s nippy outside.

Individualistic ideologies try to become apart of societal infrastructures but crumble to norms.

We wait quietly for the storm to pass. Listen to the hail, silence is power. Bright lights and placed words shout commands to the masses.

We must abide.

We cannot hide, so we step aside and

watch the brave grow old.

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