lonelynature

Things sound different at midnight,

the dark is so much lighter,

The noises so much louder,

Every creak causes a jump,

Every movement causes a flinch,

They come out of nowhere,

people rising up from the ashes,

no coordination, no plan in place,

just people who, at the same time, spread all over,

They are smiling,

Lips stretched up, with a slight crinkle of their eyes,

They are listening,

Nodding along, making hums of acknowledgement,

They are happy,

The lies are ready on your lips, practiced, you done this a thousand times, but you falter. You falter and shatter the illusion of truth.

Revolutions are bathed in blood,

In death, betrayals, and cruelty.

Yet, we often associate them with freedom,

The oppressed rising against the oppressors.

You trace the ridges of the flower.

The sole daisy in this field.

A dot of yellow against a vibrant green.

Your toes burrow in the dirt.

The soil covering your feet.