we are fools when we believe in old magics and mages
and hide from the monsters underneath the bed,
praying to stories while we bleed and beg.
It is dangerous and stupid to wrap ourselves in wishes,
when the alarms sound we play with limited time
and lift our hems away from the filth
blinded to everything through choice.
but the children are still crying between the pages
of some great liars book of shadows
and blood stained words of gospel.
these shameful hurts and horrors,
but still, for all of our never again promises
we cheerfully hand over our children.