maybe we're all just children with fingers itching to build towers out of
wooden blocks
seeking inspiration in the dull moments lying on the carpet staring into space
wondering what it would be like to be tiny as an ant, fibres of the floor magnified with our eyes so close
we try to recognize perspective but get so wrapped up in our skewed thinking that the world revolves
around our tiny lives
like the moon following us outside our car windows
we believe the weather must echo our feelings and get angry when the sun is too bright for our rainy insides
but our towers get knocked down and others' are built up all around us
and maybe if we admired our collective greatness the downfall wouldn't feel so unbelievable
unbeatable
I know I'll build your tower up
before it has a chance to fall
I know your architecture is a work of art and mine is faltering
trembling like aspen and yours is strong
secure in its concrete frame
and I know that makes me happier
knowing you won't tumble like building blocks
at the slightest clap of thunder
because I love your tower
more than I love mine
