Make Believe In The Future Poem by gregory collins

The prophet says excuse me
but the color of your trophies of war
dreams in a cage like the truth
believes the lies and bombs our friends

and my own eyes look like
an angel on an empty beach
freezing cold on my tongue

and now sitting in the mind of a fool on a hill
wearing your tattoo that just gave me a smile
i see the world spinning round the whole sky
and there is no use for heroes long gone to count all your blessings

as you stay a child in the tourist town called blue heaven
and that is where the soul in motion will not see the stars
and light is sharpening her knife for your mirror

because again i thought there are too many stars to truly explain
why all my pieces are becoming more a dream