i tend a storefront of normalcy,
care to sample my wares?
she won’t buy what others try
instead offers leading stares
i invite her into the back,
way past the webs of time
to meet a small boy sitting on a box
who greets her with giggles and rhyme
now in her hand a key to this room
but she will seldom choose to go
which leaves me tending to the storefront
the only way i know
–
acceptance, a strange currency
which seldom pays for worth
instead is exchanged for shallow thoughts
in the marketplace of earth
while i do my selling
is when i truly lie
for the smile on my face simply cannot hide
the gleam missing from my eye
maybe its best not awakening the boy
who hasn’t yet felt internal gloom
for what a sight of purity and innocence
unaware of his impending doom
(Continued: Copper Painted Compassion)