Order Yearning

I traced these patterns with a pen
The first year I was old enough
To stay up late and watch TV
And felt the first of many pangs
That were to shape who I would be.

There is no good or bad that we
Can't find ourselves belonging to
Although the habit of our hearts
Of making ourselves heroes in
The telling our daily tales
Dies hard (or not at all)

We children seek for some control
The colors neat the words arranged
The whirl outside, to stay outside.
But nothing ever stops the world
From breaking down our ordered walls
Like puppets, or like martyrs
To no cause

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