Parocsm

We used to live // 

In stories // 

We used to write // 

Messages on the walls // 

With black light pens // 

That we got from // 

Fake space // 

We used to run // 

Between the trees // 

In our backyard // 

Pretending the grass // 

Was the ground of // 

Fantasy // 

Our names were not our own // 

But we did own them // 

Our voices must have sounded // 

Different in our heads // 

But now that our ears are just our own // 

Everything is worse now.