paper tigers
It was so cold in that room. All I wanted was to be in the sun,
To be one of those laughing, happy, stupid children, posing in
pictures behind the tress and having fun. The carpet was stained
and the walls were stone; tinted glass windows hid me from the
garish light that shone. I looked up and saw 15,000 paper cranes,
but none of them were for me. The paper tigers destroyed them all after I set them free.
I would have written you a song,
I would have danced with you in the rain all along.
I would have kissed the little white scars on your hands.
And I could have counted the freckles on your back while we laid in the sand.
My mind became a labyrinth in which I hid.
I painted silhouettes, of what I used to have and all have since fled.
A crimson smile, a shy repose, a half-witted fool with tattered clothes.
These things go through your head sometimes when there isn't much life to live.
Now you cannot enter no matter how hard you try.
I have taken down the rainbow bridge and only the angels are allowed to fly.
So I cut out some paper tigers to guard the door,
and there they shall sit while I turn in on myself on the floor.
