Around me people are moving Buzzing, swarming, fluttering And living. Legs moving but I am stationary Stationary as a pencil And my life is being written for me And every slip outside the lines Is erased - reluctantly Not without grudges Leaving contorting smudges. And the world around me changes But I am stationary And they can live without me.
What's the point of you at all when all they want is a cut-and-paste person. <3