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. 



This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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