I'm alone here,
And I can feel it -
In the silence that fills the table
In the void of few words
Separated, closed off
Away from everyone else.
Around me,
Tables talk.
I hear Uno and chess
Checkers and card games
Little exclaimations
Little connections
Like fireworks around the room -
And I sit alone,
Alone,
But not lonely.
Not jealous of these people
Sitting here
With my work
Being peaceful
Is more appealing, to me
Than anything else they're doing.
One flutist.
And empty auditorium.
A silent stage.
I can feel the silence reverberating around the space -
I can feel the lack of an orchestra at my back,
The invisible audience before me,
The thrum,
The pulse,
The ever-increasing
All-consuming
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Counting down
The end.
The
End.
We all know it.
To be a teen
Is to lose your sense of self
Completely.
What is right?
What is wrong?
What is cool?
Why do some feel so drawn to popularity
While others are repulsed by it?
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