I am the round peg
a small child tries furiously
To fit into a square hole

You are their wooden blocks
Endlessly creating new and exciting worlds
Despite your inconspicuous appearance

I seem to fit every mold
While you have created your own
But I drain out through the cracks
And you remain intact

You forge paths for yourself
Unafraid of the consequences
Sure of your destination
Sure of your course

I wander
Not with lust but with thirst
Yearning to find anything at all
Anything of meaning, of worth
Anything remotely resembling a place
Where I think I can be happy
And where maybe you will be able
To meet me along your way

But every time I think I've found this place
I know I’m only settling in mind, not body
And I watch as you continue on
So sure and so fast

It would be fine
if you drank your coffee black
if you ate only ancient philosophy
if you breathed melancholy melodies onto the page

It would be fine
if it hadn't made your heart bitter
if the stoicism hadn't turned you to stone
if you didn't lock yourself in a glass tower to do so

You seem to think of me as a canvas
but that would be fine
if you didn't try to replicate your illusions onto me

You seem to think of yourself as a piece of art
but even that would be fine
if you weren't made of immovable marble

Written in the stars
a message just for me.
You always ask me why
I'm stuck staring at the sky.
They're blinking up there to tell me the Truth:
immortality exists for the masses,
a beautiful tragedy for the individual me.

When one ant dies,
you still groan over the colonies' persistence,
even while they process
that pour soul to his grave.

When one stars goes out,
you still gasp at the sky on a clear night,
saying there couldn't possibly be anymore out there.

Well I may die my own woman,
and I may make my mark on this world,
but someone will be looking down on us
when my colors fly,
remarking on the endurance of the human race.