perspective

Walk down the hallway lined with doors
Nameless doors,
faceless doors, colored with
the blandest shade of reason.

Walk, down the hallway, past the walls lined with photos
landscape photos, those
Hateful photos, surrounded by
thick white barriers
And the edge of darkness they
call frames.

Tiny, framed,
spiteful wishes of freedom, Disgustingly,

Futile.

Walk to the window at the end of the hall
To find no glass or object there
Just, Empty,

the precipice of the cliff nailed to
A universe

beyond, Comprehension.
Tiniest
Things change your
Perspective

What face do we make

when we


Fall
.
.
.
?