The Paradox

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."
- Oscar Wilde

Silence. No more.

                               You cannot talk to everyone one day

                                                                                                 And regress into yourself the following.

You cannot plan your poem meticulously

                                                                        And brush aside the thesis.

You cannot have the desire for many, many friends

                                                                                          If you know you cannot uphold them all.

You cannot be cheerful for an hour,

                                                               The life and the soul revelling in false glory,

                                                                                                                                            And sink down into your usual state of numb sadness for four.


             Finish these sad habits

                                                       And finally make a decision.

Who are you, sad Paradox?

                                                 When did you lose yourself?

                                                                                                       And how can you retrace those steps

That caused this confusion, this breach

                                                                    This gaping tear in your identity

                                                                                                                              And re-find yourself?

You must stabilize yourself, Paradox.

                                                                 Cement your soul.


The End

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