Blank

A blank space is all I need,
To try and show you, what I want you to see.
This poem is actually not about me,
But more about you and what you want me to be.

Everyone’s different, no-ones the same,
Is life that meaningful, I think it’s a game.
But here we are living, each with a name
Some people are unhappy, some people want fame.

I sit and watch, as you all talk crap,
About things that are stupid, about things such as smack
Yet I get insulted for having a lack
Of interest in them, and not taking crack.

You see, I may not be happy, or wealthy or well
But at least I know that I live outside a shell,
Why do you come up to me, and start to tell
And show your hate, saying I’m going to hell.

The thing is I really don’t care,
I sit, take it in, and just give a snare.
Though I see your face, and notice your glare
I simply sit still, alone in my chair.

You want me to take them, with you or without,
But I do have some sense; I do well not to shout,
You won’t leave me alone, trying to fight
To get me to smoke it, to show me the light.

But I don’t want that, or popularity,
I want to be me, and live in some peace
I don’t want addiction, or have to release
My life to the drugs, I want to stay free.