they search for the innocence in us
the naivety
the untriggered thought
when knowledge now comes in such small increments
as to be insignificant
life falters
you cannot create emotion, elation
sadness
when you have lived long enough
to rise above such mundane,
humane feelings
it is the curse of near perfection
I pity you
searching those empty, dark eyes
I sense how you long to be
human
again