Occasionally I inquire what it'd be like to be
A mind as shallow as those around me

They never think of anything unusual
Nothing that they haven't heard before
Nothing they aren't told to, nothing crucial
They never search for keys to unopened doors

How boring it must be to live in such a brain
Where imagination simply doesn't exist
Where all that they dream up is purely plain
And nothing ever has an unexpected twist

They don't ask questions that don't have answers
They can't stand stillness and never stop to ponder
All that they speak is meaningless banter
They refuse to open their minds to galaxies of wonder

But every once in a while I get curious
Until I'm quickly reminded of their invariance