unlike the tail of a lizard
when a child is adult damaged
the trapped aspect is not lucky enough to wither
it waits infinitely unconsciously
unlike the moth of a silkworm
when the child is damaged
the new human is not lucky enough to fly
it crashes utimately
It is not for comfort
where the inner warmth of dispair lives
it is a forgotten place that is home to the lost child strangers that dwell
in the mindless ruins
of false happiness
unlike the like polls of a magnet
when the damaged are revitalised
by oppositte polls that do not repell souls
they attract and healed to finitely uncrashed
like silk in naturepoll connections
are soul opium
that thread
light into
mind ruins
and let inner lizards
out
unexplained and in-love
it is not for comfort
it is our nature
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