Many Like Me

Many like me, alone and screaming,
Hard to communicate, where’s the
Meaning?
In the bus it’s crowded,
Suffocating, it closes in on me.
People everywhere, they stare,
Soundless, the voices scream from their eyes
But only I can hear you cry.

The world grows louder,
Like a million shattered glass, pieces
Of voices chatting and meaningless yapping,
Of voices shrieking and thousands dying,
Speechless, it closes in on me.
Running, running towards thee,
Crimson tears under your eyes,
Looking at a world gone by,
But only I can hear you cry.

See this painting of a distracted mind,
Eating cereal and trying to find
His shoes, his feet in the world,
Where smoke cans hide the blood
Of rebels, martyrs and broken things;
Of faces kissing the dirt where once were homes.
But don’t worry, love, you’re free,
No one can touch you under that Eden tree.

There a plane goes missing, another
Goes down.
But you’re dead, love, don’t frown.
Pity the living, pray for me,
Pray for us, only meekly.
For how lovely it would be,
To look down with thee,
And see many more just like me.

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