Purpose--a complex structure in our mind
Profound in sound, trivial in its utter existence.
Perfect clones don't exist, but passions mix
Painful links of genuinity and commonity.
My voice cries out--"I am unique. I am me"
Many tears trickle, raindrops to the windowsill.
Mind wanders and questions. "Unique? What's unique?"
Memories recall my united ways--passionately speaking with commonity.
Memories recall distaste--"Don't remind me. This foolishness of community"
As I wander the path of a loner within myself,
Awaiting....anticipating....answering to the illusionary calls
As I pretend that my existence is extraordinary as the spirits of spectators.
As I stand there, scoffing.
Yet this is absolutely all wrong.
Years continue and it's all so freakin' wrong.
Realization? Purpose? Denial.