The grass is greener

There exists death and tears,
but none of which i feel.
Broken hearts and bullet scarred souls
Again neither pain to call my own.

All i have are soft set skies
pale oranges and pinks
wrapping me into security
warmth as an external source
letting me know care.

On this side of the fence
I know of only smiles
and waves of rolling laughter.
i haven't experienced the pains of the world
i know not of hunger and fear,
i know not of control and submission.

What lies beneath

we have dreams of perfection
an idea what life should be
green grass
white picket fences,
this is suburbia.

Dye your hair
plaster a smile
arrange your face,
collagen alterations.

Kids walking in line,
single filed submission.
left foot,right foot
not ever stepping out.

Down a path we follow.
the trees are growing
and bushes pruned
this is suburbia.

The streets are watched
and each corner is stopped.
outsiders,
none to be seen.

Among the borders
where grass is not but brown
just waiting for the mark,
the mark of stiletto heels.

So now grows the walls of suburbia
tearing down any middle ground
lining the streets in pearls,
eating away at every store bought family,
this is my suburbia.