ForkWord
Poems by Inchiki
diary entry jan 2011
the slow glide of change
slices through me like it did my parents
and theirs - sliced like lemons
the world seems more hideous
the more i get to know it
the innocent glow is lost
when we first pick up the schoolbag
and leave everything we believe
truth might be a drug what
with the hangover it brings
my grandparents found it
but all we knew of it as children
was that hangover
