You Can't Take That Away From Me

Right. Everyone is like them. You know it. That’s what makes you open-minded. You're right. I wonder if we're ever going to get home. I know what will be there when I go. That's the only thing I look forward to. You're right though; the blood I shed will fertilize forests your grandchildren will protest to save. The thoughts of possibilities from the two meeting for lunch, while I tend to the farm and the pesticides stain my hands making the towns children make snide comments when I'm not there, is enough to make me want to shut this whole fucking thing down. How much? The whole fucking lot of it. I will not accomplish this by any means necessary. I will do this by the only means I know. Will I lay waste to tracks of land until the world gives into my demands? No. I will seclude myself from all. Every change that occurs in the galaxy happens inside, I do not need to go outside to know of it. I made it happen, or at least I am aware of the happenings. You will live and you will fight and you will frustrate yourself and you will feel and you will love and you will lose and you will try and you will dance and you will consume and you will witness and you will read and you will prove yourself right, but you will not see. I will sit and waste and know. One day you will see. You will see things then how I saw so long ago. When your proof is proven wrong, I'll know. When perceptions are realigned, I will know. I will have been forgotten by the memories and photo albums, but I will be remembered by the sight. I am the same as them. You are so different, so better. We are the evil in the good shroud, and what does that make you? You are the last rung on the societal ladder. I thank you for it. I could really care less. I don't know the abstract meaning of what it would be to demoralize the masses by establishing the minority preamble of dexterity. I am sure you can tell me.
Something swam by too closely when you pretended not to know me as we swam and the stars gazed on us. The clouds swirled as the water traveled down your back stopping sporadically like I would stop across the world seven years later. The water made its way back to the lake. You made your way back to the car. I made my way across the land. I pray I will return to the lake soon. That prayer is yet to be answered.