Our Paris (#alive)

The Survivors say that theres no such thing as finding your own Paris
And what I mean by Paris is, your own place that makes you feel wild with life.
A place that no matter what happens, you know that you can always go there. It reminds you of the 206 bones in your body and the fact that you're still breathing.
A place that inspires you.
And yet, here we are,
a bundle of jumbled hats with pom poms,
 doubled up hoodies, ukuleles, smoke, and starbursts.
A group of crazies that aren't supposed to care about each other. 
A group of teens that spend every day together but haven't truly seen each other til tonight, and
a scattered bunch of "dictating" adults that we're not supposed to love.
We stand here in a place thats safe from the world.
We left our brains back on the bus, wrung out and laying to dry,
and here we are watching the sparks dart sporadically in the night sky.
We are in the mountains, bleeding in a place that says our blood is a masterpiece. 
Alive
Here we are, watching the adults burn their walls down with the fire we're standing around. 
There they are, wearing beenies, playing the guitar, and dancing with tamborines.
Alive.
We see them.
And we've decided that we love them. 
Here we are, a bunch of random teenagers. 
The "Inbetweeners" that don't even fit into a stereotype.
A boy who plays his viola for all to hear.
A girl who loves poetry and learns to play the ukulele by the light of the fire.
The kids who feel there is more to life, but are still learning how to see it.
And we are alive. 
Here we are by the fire, with marshmellows stuck to our fingers and voices that are running out of juice because of the songs in our hearts. 
In a world that is heavily influenced by the survivors, I swear we have found life, love, and trust.
And we have found our Paris.