Small

So obsessed. Can't stop thinking. Can't stop spinning. The small things sweat out of the pores of life and onto the page, and every star lights up like a sun. A strong honey voice sings my thoughts to me, and her black dress sways at the hem. Around me people dance in masks, but I know those eyes. A friend speaks of the crash, the lines we draw between ourselves, the walls we build, the hate we fuel. I tell her there's hope. She asks me how I can believe.