when a shroud of blindness becomes me, i'm glad for that pair of eyes, twin sentinels over my unsure footsteps. of the times you would intervene when i stand paralyzed staring at a puzzle you know would unravel me as the cost, or shake your head sadly as i am drawn to intense lights, the kind that casts an equally long and dark shadow - on whoever bathes in it. does this radiation mutate? or simply conduit?
someone please explain to me why is there a myriad of awkwardly shaped boxes all around me? makes it impossible to not wonder, and a curse to yearn to know, was pandora really a bitch, or simply curious? is it not just being hopelessy human to fumble with the gift of free will?
for the reasons you would choose to believe in me, to care unconditionally, my handful of earth angels, i am truly grateful. it's not hard to see in times like these, why you are the flowers painted in the rarest colour on my canvas.