Thorns and doves

A mith born in blood, lies and pain 
Development is a fictional claim
One may see the wind at the sea
An option to trade for work as a bee.  

But it's not acceptable nor attainable.
Blue skies, green fields of Eliseum,
Forests of the west, mountains of the east.
Help us face, change the heart of the beast.  

Children are made believe in fallacies
Old woman creed to help the above
Ideas full of thorns in a white dove.
Unaffordable idiosyncratic attitude.  

Not now may I write differently 
Because sadness, loneliness 
Is all over, crying for other
Rather then the fugue me, 

who would express his feelings 
of not wanting to go out with a woman

because fearing that system of people

running to save their family and friends.  

I am really sorry,the problem

of development Mith exists, 

but one's poor poetry falls 
behind the old closet 
never to be find unbroken.
As one's will never find 
The dreamed freedom mists,
The long waited embrace.