For No One
To this I have no one for which to tell.  A useless tragedy that lies within itself, nothing.  Words leaping across the vast void of synapses to find a home for whom none shall call, because it is useless to cry out when you are happy.  A singing tone I propel, as does the hero of the opera, forward into the hall.  A facade that lingers as overtones of the great beast that is what I've become.  Happiness in this place is made within the confines of a graduate cylinder, from a meticulous process of balanced libido and personal sacrifice.  I must confess my narcissism is more than I expected, because that boy there looks just like me now.  A spitting image of everything I never said I would be.  Admittedly, it is a life worth living, but that grass beyond the fence looks ever so delicious at times when I'm not my best.  There's a world that existed born from complacency, with intentions that were once pure.  It left me though when a boys mind outgrew his heart, and the world finally became real.  Now I do lie contentment of mind for an existence I have forged.  Afraid you may hear that I'm nothing but human.  A man who carves emotion like a modern work of art.  Deciding that this is what I am.
Never before have I felt less human. 


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Galant_Revear
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