How many faces do you pass by with broken dreams and lonely eyes? Lives and men you have brought to their knees. To adore you and love you until you discard them without a second glance or thought again. As you cast your eyes away because I will not cast mine, as you cast your stones, and I will not cast mine. And you pass by, telling yourself you don't love me. You do, I tell myself. What trails of sadness and regret do you walk? How many people can you step on to get to the next and the next and to deride and discredit their being as humans? Do you stumble and fall as we do, or are you as sure as the earth and fingers you so irreverently step upon?
And so you pass, with your silence and haste, with your shrinking and bowing, and your eyes cast and face of stone, I find that my answer is many and that I am but one.