There are those, in darker places, (equally some in lighter too),
Who do not exist as Descartes suggested,
but rather think they think, therefore think they are.

All the while miming to a song that's yet to be written,
conducting invisible orchestras which play Tchaikovsky backwards,
praying to a God not yet in existance,
shuffling to a dance whose steps cannot be found.

Maybe you'll one day join their ranks,
perhaps you're already there?

Sepia toned lovers, their midnight dalliance leads to nowhere,
only because it never happened at all, but rather,
charged particles stimulate each other inside a storm cloud.

Never forget, you'll be pushed aside.

Always remember, this is not what you deserve.

-

Forgiven by themselves, never,
forgiven by the world, sometime.
Reject any and all blame,
refuse to submit to shame.

Just a flicker of light inside their mind's,
not enough to light the way,
They'll never really share,
for they know that no-one will ever, really, care.

The world at large will do nothing
but shun, and disregard,
and lock them up in padded cells,
to whisper truth unto themselves.

~P~