Privates

I walk in to many worlds. While awake 'I' see but 'Death' and it is more than that 'dream' of what you think of me, you did find. Withered limbs, dry shriveled lips obnoxious gasses more than one pair of gloves 'I' must wear on each hand, glassy is each milky eye that likes to watch, more come. Youth now, 'Youth' every child we have, that perfect 'Angel' does no wrong with a camera held in each hand. My privates and rights to privacy as last night 'I' found out side of our window a purpose you left cracked for all your friends to find. Our faces hidden, while mums hand reached around to find that one lovely reason, for why you are even here, behind the blinds. Untill it was sent to my phone. Try to black mail your new foster parents with those pictures that hang on the wall.