These people, whom I know as much as I know me,
As I fill my days with their shiny lives and parades,
But they're not mine,...
Some picture-perfect lies...
There lies mine,...
trampled,
abandoned,
begging to be remembered,
begging to be cared ...
I don't know me,
I don't know my story...
And as I bask in their glory,
The one grasping for help is me,
As I follow them away...
As I walk away from me,
Only with what makes them h a p p y ...
Because it was easy,...
Too easy....

As I never cared for shiny objects.
until I felt I lost mine,
Illumination,
What feels like in a sudden,
There are so many from them,
Those people,
covered in gold and diamonds,
shining away from their high pedestals,
Stunning, ... captivating,...
I sat there in silence,
admiring from afar,
and once in a while when they come down from their higher ground,
I follow them around, --
I follow them around, ...
My existence is a wish of theirs,
wispy and feeble,...
...
There is a beggar on the ground,
begging for a second chance,
trampled and forgotten,
I don't know her,
I don't know her story,
As much as I know these sparkles,
they can't be the same kind...
Boring and uninteresting,...
So I scold at her,
ignored her,
as mine and me alone gasp for my care,...
Too easy...
Because it was too easy...