Take from me these shallow words,
the feelings they express.
Give back to me their meanings so that
I might find some rest.
I think in circles, wring my hands
type a line or two.
And hope that I can understand them,
hope that they are true.
Because to lie to strangers seems
a greater sin to me,
than deceiving my own mind.
Because I'm only me.
And they are them, majority,
a callous, clashing crowd.
And I must please them if I can,
their roar is just so loud.