Is there a reason for the blue?... or whites of my eyes when I rivet the skies to find myself inadequate enough to see how far from beautiful an oasis in the ghetto can be?...and I am six between the effigy of my cradle memories that I want to be where my Jersey sky met with Eden’s paradise so I can fly like I tried in my youth's antiquity. I wish I could spin round-n-round to find that special happiness I get that tickles me when I tumble and fall laughing hard at my future's secrecies. I wish I could cover the moon with my thumb and admire her behavior to chase me as I race my shadow to my room. I wish I could pretend to play the fool that never dies and claim that nothing will ever hurt me when I close my eyes and enter fantasy to see that all I've got is Eden’s Jersey sky.
~PsyqSol
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