1. Children born in trenches :
This the age of decadence and dismay,

Where chocolate rain pours down upon plastic terrain,

Where tin-shanties hold cookie-cut-cardboard dreams

And the air is slumped over the shoulders of the-mannequins,

who dressed by the blind, still look like shit.

2. Snapshots from my Ivory Swan.
Children whistle into cracked - windows,

The wind whips and wanders into their wet eyes,

Whilst their dreams waltz wistfully into the barren night sky.

2 poems for the price of one - I never finished connecting them - so please be mindful of this fact. If anyone wants to they are most welcome to return them as a collaborative piece - woven together again!