I was born inside a wheelbarrow
where everything was locked
inside of little castles
that I built from tiny thoughts.
And in them was reality
but fantasy of sorts
–ones with flying dinosaurs
and rainbow coated unicorns.
If I could I would unlock them
but castle doors are large
and someone told me marshmallow-men
and zombies are in charge.
But I think she was lying
because somehow she's afraid
that beyond cement and order
she won't get the trash in which she's paid.
And heaven won't accept her
if she doesn't stop us all
from basking in the moments
of our dreams and not her God's.
So I shook my head and chirped
–like a bird made of flame–
and picked the lock with my feathers
the ones my passions made.
And when I walked inside there
–the biggest castle I could see–
I found myself surrounded
by happiness, and daylight dreams.
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