I see in faces full of lies
and graces full of prides
the agonizing cries
of people, hurt,
wanting to be heard.

I pass them by the hour,
watch their pain devour
as they suffer from their past,
not knowing how long the
madness is bound to last.

It puts perspective on my downs.
Not that I'm not worth some frowns.
In some way it's even freeing,
to see what they're not seeing.

Why?
Perhaps I am the bad guy.