JACOB: But... I love you, Joseph! More than anything in the whole world!

MARY: Then why did you leave me to rot?

MICHAEL: You and I both know I couldn't do anything.

BARRY: I don't know a **** thing!

ELLE: Don't pretend to be an idiot– I know you're not an idiot!

JOSEPHINE: I must be the greatest fool in the whole world.

I came upon a man,
who I could not quite understand,
as he told his tales of woe,
and I listened, as best as I can.

When the story ended,
and my interest remained,
he would ask me a question,
and my mind would remain
stained.

"In an endless dune,
I view a single door.
Will you walk forward,
and view it with me?"

I used to wonder why anyone
would eat at a restaurant
they just saw
walking
on the
street.

Then my grandfather passed away.

They're always quite tricky to grasp.
Why should I even have to ask
for a moment, just to
consider what
they mean?

Tears, or some
other genuine display,
something that could prove
that I truly do care, and that I'm
not some ever-unloving sycophant.

But as I come back to my responses,
only an hour later do I find regret.
They are not like me, and they
cannot understand
why I am so.

It does mean
something, not
only to them, but to
everyone. That is why
we continue to act these ways.

She shared one of these with me, you know,
and yet as I told her that I was thankful,
not a tear, or genuine smile, or any
thing other than disapproval
appeared in my eyes.

All that you see is free
this one is not
their experiences equal weigh

I am not to any one as I am to an other.
It is fair to say that I am not any "one" to most.
With their consistently skewed perspective,
what have I won that there is to boast?

I am not to anyone as I am to myself.
What does it matter what I am to me?
The only presence of my sort sensible
is as I am allowed to be.

As alone as any other, I hide from progress.
Anonymity is best served to the indecisive.
Should I be remembered by a name?
Is my life merely organized in crises?

My story is only told in this time
because there are listeners.
Should I go unobserved...
should I go unobserved?

I miss seconds, and then days.
Time moves on without me,
and I am not of interest,
I am no idol.

Stares and glares alike bind me,
condemnation outside the realm
of what is verbal harms me so.
How pitiful and weak.

I wish to understand the world,
and so I seek to understand myself,
for my world, should it be important
is nowhere else but within,

Yet I remain unobserved,
a victim of my own kind.
This life, and the next,
to remember these codes five.

The jack of all trades is unacknowledged,
but he works for the betterment of man.
The master of none is desperate,
he will take all that he can.

Sadness is a quite particular ailment.
More persistent than an infection,
Easier to treat than a disorder,
Not so unavoidable as a syndrome.

Deceitful, however, it calls to the weak-minded.
The temporarily disadvantaged find shelter in its grasp,
they are consumed by rationale, and allowed
to simply cease to be. Quite the lucrative offer.

The proponent of sadness is truth,
When extraneity is left and cognition remains,
we recount the sorrow intrinsic to our existence,
and we take solace in this recognition.

Strangely, I am freer in this present than any other,
care and worry's steel no longer binds me.
Yet escaped from my cell I only find the sun blinding;
It will not accommodate me, and I return burnt.

How I long to be truly yours for only a moment more,
Hosanna