2018, after E. LeFey
We were dreamers, saw light in fey colors
beyond what the world knew. We turned our eyes
to see past the static lust, dust disguised as gold,
saw pain. That we alone were feeling? No,
but everyone hid it well — masks made out of skin
hiding the ghostlights dead within.
We had voices, back before we learned the game.
That pain? We were gonna drag it through sunlight
singing loud, proud of our new hues, destined to lose
as we found our adult faces, learned shame
and the shape of the silence it brings. Why hope
when the world has settled for monotone?
We got old, learned to settle into ice; the price
of metamorphosis, our bliss, the shelters we built
as the world became more cruel. In securing our survival
we left the kids to wander as the cold grows colder.
And now they’re singing loud — we who lost our voices
must make choices. Will we rise, throw up the bitter lies
and sing in tardy harmony, graceless but finally free?