Whind Chime

The first poem I wrote that was this long and well written. It was later beaten in length and quality by "the Best and Worst of Dreams". I think if you read it, it'll speak for itself.

Whatever was I thinking when I dreamt so high?
Of sitting on rainbows touching the sky?
Dreaming of the atmosphere coated with sugar.
Believing things were fixed purely by stain remover
made of alcohol, but of course I knew
that something so blatantly obvious couldn't be true.
How could a substance of intoxication
be a possible aid in regeneration?

But as humans desire what cannot be obtained,
I dreamt of that sky and was severely pained.
Hovering on the heart of the ideas of
a single little girl from down looking above,
who has desperate hopes of being free
and tasting the sugary sky with gapped and broken teeth,
and the American dream to fly
away from this life,
and away from here;
away from becoming what she will continually fear.

Guilty accusations and as the prosecutours
read quickly through her misdemeanours,
she's calling creation something unknown
while screaming that things cannot be foreshown.
‘So how can we prevent the flow of time
from singing that hated, deadly rhyme?
And stop things for now uncertain?'
One replies; ‘We cannot see past this Iron Curtain.
But we can rise up our silver shields so unheavenly
even if our arms break from pressure so heavy.
It's better to have resisted
than for hope to have never existed.'

And in those brutally honest blue eyes
came a conviction free from lies.
He easily could see through her
as he stated, ‘All we can go with is what things were.
Learn from the past, but live in your times.
Wake not from alarm but soothing wind chimes;
for the path we take will end the same
and with all gone who is there to blame?
Who committed genocide
if no one being will reside?'

And through kind gestures
he said words that were unspoken.
But lacking the presence of untimely protectors
Promises were lost, gestures all broken.
‘If you were my wind chime, how will I wake now?
To replace you in my heart I just won't allow.
Though, you'd rather me be happy
even if you weren't the wind chime for me.'

And how can something symbolic be something so real?
What one time was dead now continues to feel.
Is it rebirth and reincarnation
as slowly comes back a once distant sensation?
It becomes less a need to hide in that energy,
for around these new strangers I can be me.
Though the guilt piles high and I cannot forget
that which makes me turn back and try to acquit,
but firm hands surround me and tighten their grasp
as I am constricted and denied to move back.
Silhouettes well above my hairline all say;
that they won’t let me set out the wrong way.
It’s over their dead bodies that I should fall ironside;
if there is a setback, we all should abide.