And as I come home to sleep in my childhood bed, a butterfly is nailed to the pillow.
The dreams are of the 90's. When society was cradling me gingerly.
Untill hate became a permanent guest. It was using ignorance as ammunition to spread it's tentacles through my world.
Both sides are to blame in this war.
Awake now. The dream is fading as they do in amnesiac bliss, but the pain remains.