Crippling August sun
Cool crisp, rippling grass
Wind streaking my face
The air full of goodbyes
Minor clouds dotting the sky
Canopy blinking in the distance
Crocodile tears litter the air
False emotions stir
Looking and traveling without a goal
Without a target
My hands against a red brick shack
Felling the cool stone
Looking in at in scene not involving myself
Wanting my notice
Craving my own need
My eyes stray down to the gravel path
Splattered with various persons in states of truth
While I stood in a state of lies and want
Why must I be not involved
No I won't be missed
Nor will I miss
Not truly
If only my eyes could really see
If only my hands could really feel
If only my heart could really love
I am myself
But myself is only important to me
Do I care
I want to hold passion
If only I weren't a veil of lies
What I think and what I am are all to separated
Then my thoughts drift off and my feet take me to the unknown once again
Through a crowd of loving people
Loving none but each other
And I was but a extra soul thrown among the bunch
The final goodbyes are coming to an end
So I trudged my way up the sloping gravel path to the ending gate
Memories were taken
Each time the smile frittered on my face filed with false joy
I could feel my separation in the air
I knew my presence was not needed nor wanted
Not that I was detested
No not in the slightest
Just that my being was not in immediate praise by a single soul had me at my sorrow
By this is the same old story
Simply re-written in a new book
Printed on a different color paper
Sometimes with a new text-type
But never a different tale
Nor a differed ending
Ever