Arms out like an Airplane

A momentous sentence fenced in the playground, proud with glittered vanity spilt in the sand. The lethargic screams of children building skyscrapers that eventually rape the stars. I remember that warm day in December when I sat on the sidewalk and watched the rest of the kids play. I decided to stand there, 3 and a half feet tall, spread my arms out, and imagine myself 3 feet taller; flying above the world. Well the time is now, and when I stare at the ground three feet taller, I feel even smaller. I try to defy gravity, but then again, there gos my sanity. I just don't understand the pointless pointing. Everywhere I go I see people smiling through the soaking of others sulking. Look at her legs, look at his face, look at the way she walks, Did you hear the way he talked? It is as if society is trapped inside the closing wall of insecurity. I wonder what kind of words are written on my back; although I do appreciate the fact that my vertabrate seems to be intact. Everybody I meet now I see this red dot in the middle of their eyes, and the redness refines to the outsides. All the problems in you somehow become the problems of me as I seek the frontiers of the indescribable world. I will just keep moving on letting these words flow through me and hope the seeds in my blue book begin to grow taller and taller, like that warm day in December on the playground where I stood alone with my arms out like an airplane.

Because when I was younger I imagined myself taller and more mature, and now that I am, I fantasize of being naive and little again.