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Description
Every time you fall asleep
inevitably you fade to dreams.
We all have secret fantasies,
        some to be fulfilled,
        some never to be.
Every person feels the shame of the thoughts,
        the thoughts they sometimes craft.
Somewhere along the line
we’ve all wanted those close to us to die,
        while we move on in pain.
The sympathy outweighs the loss.
        Disturbing yet mundane.

Not I nor you differs from the rest;
somewhere inside we all long for the same end,
        yet still it’s difficult to understand.
We all claim to be different from the next;
        we find ways to separate ourselves so that we may venerate our path,
        and belittle all others.

And I have seen you scorn him,
        and him scorn you.
I’ve watched as you scorned me just as he scorned me,
        and alas, I have scorned you all.
I have seen him want her,
        and her want him,
him want him and her want her.
I’ve watched as you wanted me just as I wanted you,
        and alas, I am the same as him or her.
But if we all want and we all scorn,
should we not be considered the same?
If we only scorn what we fear and only fear what we do not understand,
        do we not understand ourselves?

All these feelings rise from questions,
        seemingly simple questions,
        questions that we all have asked ourselves since their subject was revealed to us.
And like everyone else who asks the same questions,
        mine are different,
        mine are special in their own way.
And no one will understand.

What is it like to love someone so deeply that you would never let them go?
        Never stand to see them cry?
        Never say goodbye?
I think I already know,
        yet I can never know.
How does it feel to “truly live?”
        Like nothing you’ve ever experienced?
I think I already know,
        but I can never truly know.
What is it like to lose someone you’d never hoped to lose?
        To watch them slip away?
        Know there’s nothing you can do?
I think I already know,
        yet I can never know.
How does it feel to be in pain?
        Like nothing seems to go your way?
        Like everything you’ve known and loved is dead and thrown away?
I believe that I already know,
        but I shall never truly know.

My questions appear no different than yours
        or his, or hers.
I am the same as everyone else, just as you are,
        just as he is, and just as she is.
Our wants and pleasures and pains are stale,
        our thoughts common,
        my questions familiar,
And although it may seem as if you already know,
        To truly understand may be a bit more difficult.
Perhaps we have fallen asleep.

Description
Every time you fall asleep
inevitably you fade to dreams.
We all have secret fantasies,
        some to be fulfilled,
        some never to be.
Every person feels the shame of the thoughts,
        the thoughts they sometimes craft.
Somewhere along the line
we’ve all wanted those close to us to die,
        while we move on in pain.
The sympathy outweighs the loss.
        Disturbing yet mundane.

Not I nor you differs from the rest;
somewhere inside we all long for the same end,
        yet still it’s difficult to understand.
We all claim to be different from the next;
        we find ways to separate ourselves so that we may venerate our path,
        and belittle all others.

And I have seen you scorn him,
        and him scorn you.
I’ve watched as you scorned me just as he scorned me,
        and alas, I have scorned you all.
I have seen him want her,
        and her want him,
him want him and her want her.
I’ve watched as you wanted me just as I wanted you,
        and alas, I am the same as him or her.
But if we all want and we all scorn,
should we not be considered the same?
If we only scorn what we fear and only fear what we do not understand,
        do we not understand ourselves?

All these feelings rise from questions,
        seemingly simple questions,
        questions that we all have asked ourselves since their subject was revealed to us.
And like everyone else who asks the same questions,
        mine are different,
        mine are special in their own way.
And no one will understand.

What is it like to love someone so deeply that you would never let them go?
        Never stand to see them cry?
        Never say goodbye?
I think I already know,
        yet I can never know.
How does it feel to “truly live?”
        Like nothing you’ve ever experienced?
I think I already know,
        but I can never truly know.
What is it like to lose someone you’d never hoped to lose?
        To watch them slip away?
        Know there’s nothing you can do?
I think I already know,
        yet I can never know.
How does it feel to be in pain?
        Like nothing seems to go your way?
        Like everything you’ve known and loved is dead and thrown away?
I believe that I already know,
        but I shall never truly know.

My questions appear no different than yours
        or his, or hers.
I am the same as everyone else, just as you are,
        just as he is, and just as she is.
Our wants and pleasures and pains are stale,
        our thoughts common,
        my questions familiar,
And although it may seem as if you already know,
        To truly understand may be a bit more difficult.
Perhaps we have fallen asleep.