He has his back against a wall, reaching
in all peculiarity for something to 'do with his life'. Wondering
what life will be like when he'll grow up and fleeting
from the vestiges of a simpler life. He planned on painting
a decent world for himself, wanting
that novel romance with time he thought to be
so well mentioned. And he thought himself
a shadow as he sank into the Wall.
She has her back against a wall, deliberating
on whether or not she can find love. Reminiscing
on Cinderella occasions that never seem to exist outside the pages. Falling
under the weight of adolescence into a new propaganda.
Her dreams a bitter nightmare as she's now questioning
if he loves her or not. And she thought herself
a butterfly, wingless as she pins herself to the Wall.
They have their backs against the Wall as we all have, considering
the vague distance morphing around us like a changeling
in spring. They were marching
to a distant place, but now everything looks similar and meaning
becomes lost. As anything a person could hope for taking
actions as necessity; they'll ask
what to do when they're consumed by the Wall.
