The sound is louder than gunshots,

But the lights are so beautiful.

The fire is dangerous, surely,

But look at the colors.

‘There’s no such thing as magic,’

That’s what they told me.

‘Wake up,’

That’s what they said.

‘Stop dreaming.’

But look; look!

Have they forgotten how to see?

There are lights in the sky,

Dazzling flowers,

Endless rainbows

Without any rain.

Am I the only one who sees it?

Have their aching necks kept them from looking up?

If so,

They ought to lie on the grass.

It’s soft.

And all I can see is the sky.

And for a moment,

All is right.

Caught up in this strange reality,

I see magic.

Away from their screaming,

Screaming,

Screaming,

I see beauty.

In a place I will never return to,

I see home.

Would they tell me it’s stupid?

If they ever dared to feel,

Could they understand that there is such power in being able to love?

But…

But they don’t.

They lost their hope.

They lost their sight.

They lost their magic.

The sound is louder than gunshots,

Maybe it’s trying to wake them.

This one’s purple…

No, it’s changed.

Now vibrant yellow is exploding out of it.

The fire could be dangerous,

So they consider stopping.

Why do they replace my magic with mundane?

I sit in their classrooms for 5 days a week.

Must they take away what little wonders they’ve left me?

This one sounds like it’s screaming.

The green against the deep purple sky,

Ringed with pink and flanked by clouds,

With a full entorage of stars.

Mom?

Mom, do you see it?

Yes, yes you do.

So why don’t you care?

The sound is louder than gunshots…

Don’t make me leave.

The fire is dangerous, surely…

Fine.

I’m coming.