Anything your heart desire

“There’s a green lady somewhere in the old Candy District-where-where all-”
An impatient friend interrupts, “The Alley, right? All the black market shops,” she cups her lips in her palm as she speaks the last of it, leaning in to the group she adds, “all the FREAKS.”
The girls are in a crowded train heading to Market 3-many people are listening. Though no one really cares. People rarely do.
The first begins again, “Yes. They say,” she lowers her voice and head, “there’s a green lady-a witch,” pausing, the three exchange glances, “that can tell you anything.”
“Anything…” the girl who’s yet to speak gasps her eyes wide with possibility.
The impatient friend scoffs unimpressed, “Yeah, yeah-there’s always one: a red one who can boil bathwater, a yellow one who can make you see heaven, and a-”
The first interjects, “Shush! And lower your voice,” the last words an actual whisper, “It’s just what Jimmy told me, okay, sheesh.”
She pouts scanning the train cart praying no one they know can hear them. No one likes FREAK talk. Though, everyone loves FREAK talk.
Miss Impatient rolls her eyes as their wide eyed friend breathes, “But what if-like-what if it’s true?“
All three gasp, their eyes hungry, their plans change-it’s not a long walk from the market.
Making eye contact, each nodding firmly-the new plan is go.

Once off the train they link arms. All dressed in University uniforms showing their Pinkerton pride, pleated skirts brush up against each other as they move taking each step with purpose.
Three hungry young women pushing through the crowds as a wall. It makes the older generation smile, the Liberated love to smile.
They get to the walkway those lovely little inbetweens each girl thinking-what if.
All this dreaming makes the journey go faster as they reach the border-the district gates: open.
“They don’t close it anymore, do they?“ the wide eyed friend asks. Her heart sad for reasons she can’t comprehend. She stops so they all stop. Her big brown eyes begin to water-why?
Hearing the sadness The Impatient just sighs, “No-why would they?” Shaking her head she pulls the trio forward through the threshold, “What would they be protecting?”
Once in the new district the air changes. Of course it’s different in the inbetweens. You’re inside but Miss Impatient hates how the atmosphere changes in some places-just like the sky.
They enter closest to Manufacturing where the other district shadows The Alley, shielding everything from the light.
They shiver.
“I think it might be early,” our impatient girl states to annoyed to be terrified.
Looking around. It’s empty, but they’d have a walk to get anywhere with life.
The leader opens her mouth to speak, but gasps instead as a green light flashes across their vision.
Huddling closer they turn toward the source: the front window of a dilapidated building. Each tilt their head to the right-frozen. Silent and holding their breath they stand still. Again the green light flashes, again the girls gasp-it’s calling them.
Eyes wide they march forward. Swallowing hard, this is what we came for, they push open the soft wooden door-once a beautiful shop entrance, and walk in. The front room is empty, but another door to the girls’ left calls attention to itself. Smoke seeps from underneath-green fog beckoning them.
They press on, crossing the next threshold with bated breath. When they enter the room it’s internal pressure pulls them in-or so it feels. Their eyes all drawn to a crystal ball sitting at the source of the smoke. A cackle-they see the witch!
Her green skin becomes they’re entire focus as she hisses, “Sit-sit my guests-I have been waiting,” And, she has-the benefits of networking.
Chairs come into view as the smoke begins to move. They shuffle to the seats. Eyes yes still wide, breath: still bated.
“W-wh-who are you?” the first asks, her mouth dry.
The witch cackles again throwing her head back as the sound of thunder crashes over them.
“Who-who am I? Ha!“ green lightning strikes hitting the crystal ball then dissipating into a ghostly figment of death. “I am the one who can tell you, all you desire-SPEAK-child and tell me what you want to know,” she demands her voice raspy and full. She’s pointing a long devilish finger at the leader of the trio.
Frozen, but trying to speak the dryness holding down her tongue, “Uh… I uh… um-should I say yes to Billy?!” the words escape fat though they bleed together, her tongue slow to pronounce producing a sluggish panic.
Her friends are both in shock-say yes to what?
Lowering her head the wicked witch places two green palms just over her crystal ball and hisses. Green fire appears within its depths-the room growing hot.
She growls, “no.”
The girl’s heart sinks, but she’s silent.
“You,” a green finger extends to the wide eyed friend who now shivers with insecurity.
Swallowing hard those wide eyes close-what to ask?
Then-inspiration strikes.
“Who is my real father?!” when she opens her eyes again they’re wide, wide with panic. Her friends are mortified realizing together-no middle name.
Green lips twitch as our witch summons green flames, her crystal consumed as she growls.
“Fred R. Miller,” wide eyes sing-Mr. Miller!
“Now you,” her finger points to Little Miss Impatient.
She’s been waiting.
“Should I break up with Billy?” her voice is poison. The kind our Wicked loves.
Our green soothsayer smirks not bothering with tricks growling, “Yes”.

How teddy bears are made

Today we catch our darling STEM touring the halls of The Colony. Not hers of course, but one of five. This particular tour is her invitation. Sixteen and ready to choose-will it be genetics?
She follows a hive injector marveling at what the introduction of honey bee had done to her eyes. It wasn’t new-oh no she’s seen this before. Every Colony has them, secretaries, created right here.
Her eyes are wide-it’s beautiful!
“So, miss-”
“STEM” the young girl interrupts adjusting her glasses as she moves to the left of her guide, eyes fixed.
The injector knows what she’s looking at-they all look! Who wouldn’t?
“Ah, yes, STEM,” she smiles. Her eyes all a flutter as she nods politely ,“So. STEM,” extending her arm she beckons forward, “as you can see our facilities are up to date with all Colony upgrades coming to us prior to any other location. I’m sure you are aware that this location is responsible for all Adapted like myself.”
Delicate, almost impossibly thin hands touch her chest as she fully faces her guest. To her displeasure the child is still fixated on her eyes, like all Honey Bee Adapted her eyes had grown and split forming into compound structures, unlike other Adapted they retained their color. Blue. Soft, ice blue-now in compound! Everybody stares.
“STEM, if I could redirect your attention to the workstations behind us you may-”
Moving closer to the guides face, uncomfortably so, the curious teen pushes her round glasses up pointed nose, examining.
“No, I’m not interested in anything behind you,” her face is dangerously close to the Injector’s right eye, “You’ve got to tell me about this. I’m curious. Have-”
“Miss!” she stamps her sensibly heeled foot almost losing her manners, “You are here to examine the facilities-not my eyes! And I would kindly ask you to respect my personal space,” her voice has its usual ever present tremble, but her annoyance is clear.
STEM shrugs taking a step back, “Look we wouldn’t be having this discussion if you’d show me something good. I really don’t want to see the Ticket masters, or the Adapters-everyone has seen the footage. Show me the labs.”
Our fiery colonist sighs. STEM knows where she’ll end up and it has way more explosions. She’s only really here because they told her to visit at least three facilities.
The Honey Bee is displeased-this is her favorite part! But this is not her tour and customer service is a must.
“Very well, follow me.”

STEM follows her down deeper into The Colony the glass elevator doors revealing floors of animal enclosures which the Injector explains is for breeding and conservation. Some of the species: spectacular colors, others hidden in exotic plants-wonders rarely seen outside these walls. The only perk it’d seem of choosing this life.
“You wanted something good, correct? Well this is something magical.”
The doors split open revealing not an animal enclosure, but what looked like a storage room. Grey and almost industrial looking. STEM is not pleased and it’s noticeable in her frown.
“Well don’t just stand there looking sour, come out and see,” she extends her arms, smiles wide, “This is where teddy bears come from!” her giggle is a vibrating buzz.
Round lenses gleam, “Teddy bears, you say?“
Inside the room she finds the walls are lined with metal boxes, each square numbered with rectangular slits at the top.
“Yes, those cute, cuddly companions introduced to us long, long ago by a dead president-created right here! Just open that slot.”
She’s standing next to STEM now almost to her shoulder.
“Just grab the tab and turn it to the left. I suggest 253-she’s the cutest!”
Taking one step forward and then another she inhales, deeply, slender fingers taking hold of the tab. She exhales, something doesn’t feel right. Sliding the tab with a shh and locking it into place with a clank she sees it, the teddy bear.

nose wiggles sniffing the fresh air.

STEM inhales sharply slamming the slot shut. The action elicits a wave of pathetic adorable moans originating from center, but fillingp the room in an instant. She jumps back bumping into the bee.
“Cute, huh?” she’s smiling, but our little lady is just frustrated.
“That’s a live bear? Like from before? In a box? You put a bear in a box?” STEM can’t help herself.
“Me? Oh no, I’m just a worker. No, but the toy makers do-that’s what we call them internally. Selective breeders handle the bears and when these little guys are ready-well they are just the most loving creatures.”
Our girl hates pointlessness.
“I’m done here,” Throwing her hands up she heads towards the elevator mumbling, “goddamned bears in boxes.“


Opening the trunk she finds pastel sweaters-Easter wear. She’s not exactly pleased with any of this, but she grabs a blue one and closes the trunk. She’s extremely uncomfortable and it shows. In front of the full mirror see can’t shake it from her smile-she’s dying.
First of all she’s not a dress girl and when she does partake it’s certainly not in a sundress. Which, certainly wouldn’t be in white-or rather, eggshell.
She begins making faces in the mirror. Sticking out her tongue and bulging her eyes just so she can laugh a bit. The blue sweater goes about her shoulders, heavy, but once secure she fixes her bow. Yes, her hair has a pretty ribbon in it tied in a bow to make up for the short hair. At least that’s why-mother insisted.
She runs hands down her stomach hating how she looks like her mother. If it wasn’t for the purple hair it’d almost be like looking at her picture. They have the same face, same eyes, and nose. She thinks still gazing at her features but-I’m nothing like her.
She should get downstairs, but she can’t get her feet to move. Her mind wanders while staring at her face I’m not going to end up like this… oh man… I do look pretty though. She frowns. She does look rather fetching, and for a moment she wonders if her feet won’t move because of fear. She shakes the thought away exiting-defiantly.
When she joins the party her sisters beckon her, each holding glasses of brandy, eyes glowing with glee. The children had started the egg hunt. They exchange kisses and pleasantries while watching them. Her nieces and nephews laugh frantically, all so amused and for a moment having purple hair feels rather-foolish.

Sweet dreams are made of

We once again find ourselves falling. Crashing, really. Graphic and Wicked collide with a roof and then with a couch though with roof under them it really doesn’t matter.
They’re surrounded by the old world, the old, old world. Picture frames still hang on the walls, trinkets lay out on tables, and a fireplace sits before them with a radio on it’s mantel. The girls don’t see this. They don’t see anything at all. Graphic sleeps, deep and hungry. Wicked’s waking up, but she can already tell-they’re no longer in Kansas. She finally understands what that means.
Eyes still closed she reaches for Graphic, “Dude… you alive?” smelling the air: it’s entirely foreign. It almost burns her nostrils and then she remembers.
“We-we went over-we went over!” eyes burst open, “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-wake up!” pulling rubble off her slumbering friend she feels the burn of untempered sun, she’s panicking.
Her skin’s growing greener the previous expulsion long gone, it’s effects rendered useless. Grabbing Graphic by the shoulders she shakes her violently.
“Wake up-wake up!“ she tries to keep quiet afraid of what could be around.
Graphic doesn’t stir only mumbles and drools. Wicked’s eyes bulge, her heart’s pounding while breathing in the heavy acid air. The freshness is killer. She looks around, it’s just a normal house. A normal centuries old house. A dead person’s house, a long, dead, person’s house. She prefers the sewers. As she looks at the dusty walls all the pictures blank destroyed over time-all the colors faded, hey mouth goes dry.
“Graphic get up-please-please wake up you bitch! You have to get us out of here!”
They should be dead-completely, and utterly dead. Wicked bought the warning: hook, line, and sinker. They’re in the dead zone and her only way home is dreaming of fried chicken.

The fast and the truly evil

“There is a difference, you see, between myself and every villain you’ve watched on television, or read in a book.” Her eyes are piercing as she looks through the glass between us. It’s thick and I’ve no way to get to her or them.
“You’ve seen this before, have you not? Or something like it,” her smile breaks, cold, and deadly.
I want to speak, to scream, but my mouth is dry. My children, my precious babies, sit on the floor behind her, their eyes are wide. Holding my youngest in her arms, my chest heaves, but I cannot speak I just clutch the metal suitcase.
“You let her go. You let her live. Now you must learn-”
Slamming free fist to glass, “I did what you asked! I did what you wanted!”
Tears begin to pour, hot and panicked down my cheeks the weakness presenting in fever. Her hand falls to Tommy’s cheek, he coos, his little eyes watching me through the glass, reaching, but unable to find me.
“Don’t hurt them! Please! Please don’t hurt them!”
Forehead on the glass, tears continuing to run down my face, she watches. She watches, petting my child-my Tommy!
Eyes steel, her voice throaty, deadly, “I don’t want you to beg, but you will learn.”
Lifting Tommy’s face to her own, her lips nearly on his cheek, her eyes peering up at me, amused, “So cute at this age, so innocent, so pure.”
“Don’t touch him! Don’t touch him!” Screams escape as I look to my three older children, tape over their precious little mouths, unbound, but immobile.
“Enough,” the boom of her voice silences me, instantly, causing Tommy to stiffen and gaze up at his captor, eyes fill with love, begging in that infant way to be safe.
“You need to be taught-”
“What!? What do I need to learn!? Teach me! Teach me!”
As all my fury escapes me her smile grows, her head lifts from my child, and her eyes sparkle. Sobs take over as Tommy begins to reach out again cooing ‘mama.’
“Then give me back my children… please… please!”
“What did I say about begging? Don’t be so, utterly, pathetic.”
“Why? Why are you doing this? I did what you wanted… I did-”
“You did this. You are the reason we stand here now. Not me. You will learn though, that all actions have consequences, and all choices are actions.”
Her fingers delicately run across Tommy’s chin.
“You chose not to fire the gun, not to re-obtain the package on your own, and then to let her live by threatening another member of my staff?” every word is sharp I can no longer breathe as each moment plays before my eyes, “Though I do understand why you made those choices, probably better than you, there are still consequences.”
Terror grips my heart as her hand takes his chin fully, and her lips spread across her cheeks.
“I am in control here, Vanessa, but still you thought to make independent choices,” shrugging with her eyebrows she sighs, “You must be reminded who has the power to make those choices, the only person who has the power to make those choices, and that, is me.”
Her last words escape as a crack is heard and Tommy’s head falls to one side.
“You chose to let her live, I chose to kill your child. Don’t make choices on your own again.”
Dropping Tommy like a rag doll she turns to my three remaining children nodding towards the exit. This whole time they didn’t make a sound, and now, still silent, they rise from the floor exiting as ordered.
“There is a difference between true power, true evil, and what the world imagines it to be. Vanessa, I am, that difference. Now, leave and await your next assignment.”

She sings

In the quiet silence of the sewers below she sings, our porcelain FREAK. On an island of filth dressed in her finest robes, her teardrops echo-drip, drip, drip. Everything is pitch, but her voice lights the way. Her siren song filling the tunnels, calming and exciting the vermin. Footsteps. Sloshing in the sick wet footsteps after getting louder. Her painted smile cracks a bit as her haunting melody continues.
Our girl is lonely-empty even-as the cold, deep chill of the underneath consumes her. A light shines above her-a halo wrapping the island and our doll in a golden glow. In the darkness all you see is her. She sings. The sound a spiritual terror that begs the soul to follow. The footsteps abide.
What our doll doesn’t know is they aren’t answering her siren’s call. Not that she would mind.
Her empty song continues traveling through the filth as an angel’s cry. The steps becoming more rapid, faster and faster they slosh-only one, but here he comes.
“Honey?! Honey daddy’s coming!“ the man screams running knee high in fecal water his eyes glazed in false hope. “Is that you? Baby-I’m here!” the man is crying-tears of joy run down his face. The song doesn’t even penetrate his ears-no tonight Porcelain sings to no one.
No matter, black eyes widen as our girl begins to salivate-she’s so lonely. The man is almost at the halo. Her hand rises to her delicate chin “daddy’s here-baby-daddy’s here!” arms fling open as he reaches her island once he reaches the island he falls. Slamming into compact filth he crawls to our robed beauty “daddy… daddy found you” he’s smiling-blinded by hope he stares up into her dead, black eyes. The song stops.
This isn’t his little girl.
In one swift motion Porcelain removes her face revealing true darkness as he is frozen, gazing into the empty cavity. He screams, but there is no sound the emptiness consumes all. His eyes die as all hope leaves him and the darkness consumes. She’s lonely-so very lonely. The halo disappears, the sewers return to black as she sings.


He’s talking at her again explaining what she already knows. His mouth is moving in slow motion and all his words turn to static. She wants to slap him, but she won’t. She’s thinking very loudly in her head this is my job y’know!? I mean who does he think he is telling me the basics of-oh my god! Did he really just tell me what would improve my output!? He did-he fucking did! Her internal dialogue continues as her eyebrows begin to twitch this is the second time today someone with a penis decided to tell her what to do, how to do it, and why. Like she doesn’t already know.
He smiles at her “So we good?” he ask, “I mean about the marked items-everything else is perfect,” her eyes are piercing daggers through him, but she continues to smile warmly, “like seriously Jessica It’s beautiful work overall.”
Overall?! She’s biting her tongue-still smiling, “Thanks Herald I’ll get it in right away” he looks confused, but hands over the paperwork-her paperwork.
He pats her on the shoulder, inside she screams “Alright I’ll leave you to it.” Then he sees his buddy, Paul. Waving at him he begins to leave then turns back “Thanks again Jessica!” she smiles and waves her lips sealed.
Are you fucking kidding me? Oh god what a dickbag she’s looking over the paperwork as she walks back to her desk. She doesn’t see anything as she moves precariously on heels-she hates work attire. On her way she bumps into a cabinet and the doorway, seeing nothing-but red check marks-his red check marks. He’s only been here two months longer than me-and I’ve been here three fucking years! Oh and that’s wrong-really no no it isn’t and-and-oh what a stupid dick!
At her desk she’s reading over every mistake, scoffing at the idea that they are in fact mistakes. All the while her delicate manicured fingers are working the mouse to reprint-no edits needed. Clearly.
Her office mates walk in-he’s flirting with Sandra again. Of course. Jessica Is still looking at her paperwork, but she’s listening to every inappropriate thing they say. They should just fuck already mentally she sighs. “Welcome back” she’s smiling but still looking over the red checks, a sort of tertiary victory lap because again nothing is wrong. “How was lunch?” she doesn’t really care.
Sandra smiles at her throwing a wad of crumpled paper at Jacob “great-we gotta go smoke” Jessica nods putting down her work ignoring the play fighting that had begun.
Pulling a cigarette and lighter from her desk drawer “I’ll meet you there gotta turn in the weekly report” she then shuts down her desktop standing to leave noticing that Jacob was nearly on top of Sandra’s desk shooting staples at her.
Laughing holding her own supplies in one hand and swatting at Jacob with the other Sandra manages “alright mee-ah stop it!” laughter turns to startled giggles as his tactics change to a rubber band scare “-out there. I’m gonna get you-” the noise fades quickly as Jessica moves toward the printer.
Her items are the only on the tray so it’s a quick trot to the inbox. We’ll see who’s needing improvement after Barbara looks at it, she’s thinking as she places both versions in the box, the edits under her own, an easy mistake that results in her knowing Herald’s thoughts in the matter.
She then heads to the parking lot. The last haven for the few remaining smokers in the building. Sandra, remarkably, is already there and had just finished lighting her slim. “O-M-G!” she exclaims as Jessica comes into sight thinking Sandra honey you are too old to say that! “You’ll never believe what jerkface told me at lunch!” she begins immediately to describe the outing. They go to the mall, they picked the pizza place, they got in line and so forth.
Jessica nods and smiles appropriately taking long slow drags from her cigarette. She’s thinking of how long it’ll take Barbara to get back to her and wondering what time it is. If it’s close enough to supervision she’d just do it then.
“Can you believe it?” Sandra ask, the crows feet that decorate her eyes all, but shift direction.
Jessica’s full attention returns to her, “Of course I can! Especially with how he was acting when you guys got back” she takes a chance with that reply not fully remembering what was said.
“I know right!” Sandra’s all smiles-Jessica got it correct this time. She usually does, she’s thinking this smiling smugly as Barbara pops up.
She’s not suppose to interrupt the smoke breaks, but she always does “are we doing supervision?” she’s smiling so everything is okay it would seem.
“Yes, I’ll be right there” Jessica is thinking horrible thoughts, but she smiles. Putting out her cigarette and palming the trash she follows her supervisor inside Sandra having given the nod goodbye. Whelp guess it was later than I thought Jessica makes it to her office then drops the burnt bud into her trash thinking she’ll love that.
Barbara is fiddling with papers of all sorts before putting them down in the chaos of her desk, pulling out the paperwork-Herald’s corrections on top. “Thanks for joining me” she’s being condescending, but Jessica’s used to this.
“Sorry had a long talk with-”
“Herald I’m assuming” she’s smiling ever so sweetly, but her voice is rather harsh.
“Yes I-”
“I’m confused. I’m really confused Jessica I find you smoking outside after getting both of these things” she places the corrections besides the clean printout “I mean you didn’t do anything with it and I can’t understand why” her face is still sweet, but her tone makes Jessica want to scream.
She’s thinking rapid fire of what to say screaming inside are you fucking serious!? Are you for real right now? Like-what the fuck! “well, um, you see I wasn’t really sure what he meant by everything and he wasn’t clear in the talk we had” she swallows Barbara nods for her to continue “so Sandra and I went to smoke so I could clarify things-y’know when we go out there it’s usually work related so-”
Barbara stops her and begins to explain the red check marks, her tone is softer now much, more appealing. Jessica is still furious thinking are you fucking serious right now?! Like what the hell you know I’m right-you know I’m right-goddamn bitch just because you want to suck his dick-ugh I can’t believe it-why do I work with such idiots!


His lips melt over hers-not in that pleasant way. She’s breathing in his cheap cologne thinking she wants to go home, but he’s got his hand on her thigh. Her hands are getting numb as they dangle from his shoulders, but she’s not really concerned with touching him. His tongue enters her lips, and she returns the favor. Grabbing his hair she bucks her hips toward him thinking maybe things will go faster, though, she doesn’t want sex.
Maybe, maybe she’s thinking she’ll give him some head. Now her mind races to how sexy she is-she’s been told she gives the best head. His hands are up her shirt, a flash of cold then off it goes. He’s all over her. Though he’s pawing at her bra like a dog-suits the way he kisses. He’s moved on to removing her pants, but that’s alright she’s teasing him after all. Though she wonders why it’s always the girl who ends up naked first?
He’s kissing her neck now while she passively plays with his hair. He’s just slobbering. She pushes her breast toward his face giggling while wrapping her legs around his waists. He’s so into me right now the thoughts are like music as she begins to rotate those hips. His hands are busy undoing his pants. While his attention lapses she starts thinking about his beard-she doesn’t like beards. And she doesn’t like his nose now that she’s actually looking at it. His lips hit her tummy rubbing that gross beard on her skin, she giggles, but doesn’t move. He’s going down kissing her lightly as his hands slowly work her panties down
She takes off her bra while he navigates her limp legs working the underwear out of the equation. Before he can resume anything she reaches for his shirt breathing sensually “fair is fair”. He swallows hard. She’s such a tease!
He then smashes into her face, kissing her hard, but basically proving once again that he’s a dog. At least now she can can feel his abs!
She’s almost giddy until he begins to kiss her ear the sound almost deafening. She squirms. He grunts-he thinks he’s done a good thing. So he dares to whisper “will you suck my cock?”
Her eyes widen “what?” she gasp “how dare you!” pushing him off with both her hands and feet “get out!” she jumps up off the coach. She grabs her shirt to cover herself and screams “get out pig!” throwing his pants and shirt at him she doesn’t notice his confusion. Even if she did she wouldn’t care-how dare he just assume she’d give him anything!
He’s frantically throwing clothes on while she glares, breathing heavily while trying to maintain cover with a shirt far too small. “Woah-I’m-I’m sorry” he stammers wanting nothing more than to be out of this situation. Pants still undone he’s moving toward the door his shirt over his head, he’s struggling.
The struggles kinda cute she thinks shaking her head and doing the shirt too assist him.
When it pops over his head she’s smiling “don’t be such a gross pig next time” opening the door for him, she giggles “call me later”

The life of fiction

Everybody’s screaming
they want a new dark world
they want a dystopian present
they want a dictator to unfurl
this is not just America
it’s not only the red white and blue
the rest of the world is following
like they always do
everybody’s screaming
watching the world burn
though the birds are singing
and the sky is blue
everybody’s screaming
crying on the floor
we’re all in hysterics
but peace has left this war
we’re all beating ourselves
a right to self mutilation
everybody’s righteous
but nobody can see
the world that many of us live in
is a world of luxury
you can point out alternatives
places with real pain
but if you are pointing
you don’t notice the real rain
we’ve got problems everywhere
but not the ones you think
it’s easy to live in fiction
to live the written dream
to pretend that you are Katniss
and that you’re the chosen one
that you will save the world
by screaming reality isn’t fun.