Blinded by the words we stare. Of contracted readiness an eagerness to blare the screams of our dear commander. But we never stayed out of sight. The mind is never out of sight but range. We sat in our deranged designated spots like private school children with plastic red cups. And never aloud questioned the world. But authority and our thoughts never heard because we didn’t know this or know any better but the hums and the mums and the cold, hearted weather. But we never did know about the black ballet show because we sat. We sat in our frames of our pretty dumb minds and lined the outskirts with all of the blinds and blood on the ground. With plastic white gloves we all hate to get dirty. Because someone once told us that we should stay here.