He feels lonely. There are too many people around him. None, to give him company. He doesn’t think. Music drives him as strangers egg him on. A sea of people and a cacaphony of noise. He thinks. All he wants is the next step, all he needs is the next breath. He IS lonely. And he loves it.
They flit around like butterflies,
Fortunately, they are as pretty as most too,
If they were not, God help them,
They would most likely be in the zoo.
If they mean yes, they say a no,
Sometimes they never let you go,
Most times give a high sometimes low,
Why, I wonder my head doesn’t blow.
Round and round the mulberry bush,
Twinkle twinkle little star; I know,
I don’t make any sense to you,
But try to remember, this is how they crow.
Their smiles, they light up the world,
Scowls, they fright down the world,
Words, they ignite the world,
Dear lord, this world, poor, poor world.
Ideal Musings 