I always wanted an extraordinary life,

and I think that I’ve

never been able to accept its

lack of meaning.

 

I wanted purpose and reason but

there is none.

It’s all run out, been taken,

been used up by the

brave.

 

It’s a con.

 

So I want nothing,

I am not interested either way.

I have grown bored.

I cannot heal or roll over,

I cannot follow the

miserable herd into

banality, futility,

monotony.

 

I don’t care for

things they care for.

I don’t covet

what they covet.

I am lost or

I am found.

 

Some people will know

what I’m on about.

Some will simply

shake their head and

not have a clue.

 

And some people

will deserve

to burn.