I'm trying, Greg.
I'm trying my best. I'm trying to do what I'm supposed to.
I'm trying to stay on track
towards my hearts true desires
but it's so hard.
It's so hard when it looks like nothing you do makes a difference
against the tsunami tearing across everything.
It's hard to think I'm touching anyone, Greg.
What do I do?
What did you do
when the people you were fighting for
beat you up.
When they kicked you down,
when they gave you black eyes.
When they tortured you for caring too much
for trying to do the selfless thing
for trying to do the right thing.
I just don't know anymore Greg.... sir.
You've done so much for me
but I just can't replicate it
for other people.
It's never enough. It's just never enough.
I tried, I'm trying...
But it just never seems like enough.
I sit alone
and I walk in darkness like a criminal.
I spread a gospel like a lunatic on a street corner.
And they tune me out
or they lie to me...
Or the worst thing of all...
They pity me.
They shake their head and say ‘poor boy'
and walk down the street
clutching their purses tightly.
In effect, they leave me to DIE, Mr. Graffin!
Shadows grow long
and the hours slip into each other
...and it just doesn't make any difference.
Because no one listens. I don't look the same, and maybe I don't feel the same
so nobody listens.
And if they were all stabbing me with a short sword when they passed me by
it still wouldn't hurt as much as it does now
because at least then I'd be acknowledged.
As a lunatic, maybe.
As a liar, definitely.
A heretic, a doomsayer... a teller of lies.
Because an idiot who writes poetry
is still an idiot in the end, aren't they?
And a supposed liar who tells the truth
is still a liar in the end
because no one believes him.
No one believes me that things could be better.
That they're an inch away from freedom.
They shrug and reach in their pockets for spare change to toss to me
as if I was after their money
when I'm after something so much more precious...
Their souls, their minds...
Their logic...
Their hearts... their humanity, their compassion.
But when the people closest to you
when even they don't know what to think of you
or what to do with you
or if they should love you or not...
Then that doesn't leave me with much faith
that I'm doing my job very well.
I'm sorry Greg.
I couldn't do it. I can't.
The whole world is going to go to hell
and it's all my fault.
I'm so sorry.