We all think this is progress
But we are all crawling the road of neglect
Some think they are fruitful
Seeing the world in all her naked respect
Some feel they're hiding wisely above the truth
Replacing freedom with meetings of limp prospects
Children are being picked up
From school
By their parents
Or their helpers
In the early autumn afternoon
Sun scorching my neighborhood
Melting my thoughts about dinner tonight
I can see signs far but not near
Cause I don't have my reading glasses anymore
I left my sights in kindergarden
Didn't we all?
~apys
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