Drear

It would seem to me that I withhold nothing of value in this society.

I'm not funny, nor charismatic.

I do not hold a certain depth to me that others look for.

I'm not compelling, not intelligent, not one with myself.

It would seem to me that I am just like everybody else.

I'm in no ways better, nor any worse.

I do what I can with what my God has given me.

I'm not trying to depress you, just trying to convince you.

It would seem to me that despite my flaws and reckless wordplay,

I'm not ignored, nor am I entirely welcomed.

I do not hold a grude, for I confide in the same emotions.

I'm not "like the others" I say, but it's all a shellfish lie.

It would seem to me that I'm just another ant on the anthill.

I'm not complaing, nor am I crying outright with joy.

I do not know why I withhold all my hatred.

I'm not what you would call a completely " put-together" person.

I try, I fail, I try again. So is set forth the motions of the world.

Forgive me for my misdeeds, for I am lost in this thing I call "myself."

Salutations fellow ants, don't grow up to be like me.