landlocked

Dressed up and waiting... again.
More crappy writing.
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Bright eyes still voices,
The choiceless innocent seek and seldom hide,
From progress, the brave mask is no longer an act,
The strength for focus flows from this tide,
like so many forgotten baskets, trusting the hands that guide,
and the voices from inside, that say THIS IS RIGHT.
And we go on.

Self secure minds, with small hands and big dreams,
clawing at the sea for one more chance, to set things right,
and for one more day,

to not be afraid in the night.