Even the middle of a mob can be a lonely place
To a self proclaimed misunderstood soul
Do I not know what to say?
My words seem to reach their ears
But all meaning simply echoes away.
Do they live a life so different from mine?
We all feel, bleed and heal
But somehow I feel less important pain.
It’s funny how,
When you’re dealt a bad hand,
And you’re looking for someone to blame,
The first victim is always on the other side of a mirror.
Its tragic how,
You give your all to someone,
And receive nothing in return but shame,
The expectant fate of an obedient giver.
In this particular lonely corner of a crowded room,
I ask myself,
Can a soul be so misunderstood it doesn’t understand itself?