in a cocoon reality where she is not so weird and frightened to think of herself as different. where it possible for her to love not at an arms length distant. but from within. hate so little cry a bit less and dance more.
all the colors have a hint of magenta to them and cats were more adored. smiling is never forced and sleeping an occupation. tales of the sun being war shipped off to become men are just fables. to scare little boys into not doing chores. for war is not present in the absence of peace. but harmony is the reworded of its presence we must keep.
as mothers absorb the presence of the sun they become humbled just for the offered gift of its warmth. the clouds transforms the sky. routine is just a made up word and structure only comes in chaoas. books are vivid and death is lovely. never sad and never lonely. being able to miss someone would never make her feel weak or weeping for no reason appear too meek.
flowers are handed out ever Thursday. music is played during every meal. food is not a privilege for the wealthy, and water is never used to as a tool to oppress the unlucky. in an alternate universe where she is not weird and dont think of herself as needing to be fixed. there is a difference between sexual beings and sexual objects. just as its okay if you want to hurt them for making you cry is not okay to actually go out and take a bat to their car.
everyone is vegetarian animals are not killed for sport. humans are capable of coexist. naps are mandatory. age is an illusion beyond numbered list for all to compare. we remain child like all throughout the years.
everyone is different and growth is beneath the skin of human development. we dance and play. flutter by and by expanding to greater heights in our transformation. we become beautiful in the sky. only because we know no other way to fly.