Like a raindrop sliding down a window, my life was going downhill...fast.
I could not understand why I was placed in this position, in this cruel world.
It troubles me. Day in, and day out. It troubles me.
There were times where I needed to float in the mass pool of my scattered thoughts, and then there were times when I needed someone to save me from drowning in the madness of confusion.
My heart ached when she left, so I followed. It was a long journey; however, my heart still ached when we were reunited.
It was brought to my attention that everyone had this...part...deep down inside of them, that resembled...well it was most like Satan himself. Every living thing on this planet - in my eyes - is a goddam monster in some way.
Why is it that every time I go out, I am stared at by everyone. It's not a look of awe in their eyes, such as a child looking upon his heroic hockey icon. Nay, it is a look of utter disgust. I never let it bother me though, I continue to walk with extreme elegance. Elegance with hope, pure hope, that someone will notice and say to themselves, or partner, or group, "Very debonair."
As I lay here with my scattered thoughts, I wonder, hope, wish, that there will someday be a sigh of awe in my presence. Yet, I know that if or when there is a sigh of awe in my presence, it'll be intended for another monster in the crowd.
I could not understand why I was placed in this position, in this cruel world.
It troubles me. Day in, and day out. It troubles me.
There were times where I needed to float in the mass pool of my scattered thoughts, and then there were times when I needed someone to save me from drowning in the madness of confusion.
My heart ached when she left, so I followed. It was a long journey; however, my heart still ached when we were reunited.
It was brought to my attention that everyone had this...part...deep down inside of them, that resembled...well it was most like Satan himself. Every living thing on this planet - in my eyes - is a goddam monster in some way.
Why is it that every time I go out, I am stared at by everyone. It's not a look of awe in their eyes, such as a child looking upon his heroic hockey icon. Nay, it is a look of utter disgust. I never let it bother me though, I continue to walk with extreme elegance. Elegance with hope, pure hope, that someone will notice and say to themselves, or partner, or group, "Very debonair."
As I lay here with my scattered thoughts, I wonder, hope, wish, that there will someday be a sigh of awe in my presence. Yet, I know that if or when there is a sigh of awe in my presence, it'll be intended for another monster in the crowd.
