He waits, surrounded by fake souls trying to feel belonged
He waits for what seems like an eternity, to be one of these genetic perfectionists
Waiting, writhing in pain and misery from the world that surrounds
A million things are missing from his ice cold unnatural life.
These things leave an empty hole that devours everything good.
There are attempts to satisfy these things that he yearns for
None of which yield anything worth true value
Every one of them come and go, like strangers robbing the dreams of night
Why is he doomed to this fate of uncontrollable chaos?
Why is he so alone?
Nobody deserves to bear the burden that is destined to him
For that which he desires, is far beyond any comprehension that mire mortals know
These are things that cannot be falsely replaced by generic superficial emotion
They are the self that is NEVER present
While waiting for the winged angle to liberate him, he cries
Crying at night, waiting for the one to set him free
So afraid of being decimated by fear of acceptance he cowards behind an artificial facade.
How the others laugh at him for not being like them, they are the perfect ones
Why is his fate doomed to this sultry misery?
Continently searching to provide a relief for this intolerable PAIN
Oh how this thorn has been creeping in unnoticed and festering in his side over theses years
Prying at his soul day by day, hour by hour, until he will not take any more
This Volcano of frustration is close to erupting, something he cannot avoid
The fire burns deep within, longing like a beast waiting to be released
Rage and torment are present, but nobody can see his desire to be like them, the perfect ones
Finally an explosion of mass proportion decimates all that was known to him
And In the waste a lone glimmer of home shines into the darkness guiding the way
This is the beginning of the glorious transformation in which he defines himself a new
It is the longing and yearning, along with the hope of being accepted that fuels his desire to undergo this perfect dream
For it is not merely a dream, but a reality in which his temptations and desires are made real
Almost perfectly complete, he can rejoice in his magnificent triumph over them.
For now he is, one, no longer cast to the side to be swept away, he is their masterpiece.
Sculpted from the very pressures of like them, selfishness has taken its course
If everything is perfect now, why does he still yearn…
Why something is missing, something that he cannot fix.
-Justin. Written September 8, 2004