Different Like Them A melancholy autumn left him delirious. Now indecisive he remains stagnant with advice, They tell him how he must be. They tell him how he must act. They tell him when he must cry. How he must dress, peacocking in a hen coop. What he must believe, experiencing everymans soul but his own. When he must succeed, savoring the flavor of mammon insipid. He tires to comprehend, to justify, to simulate paths footworn and familiar. Forgetful of the door behind whether it was an exit or entrance. Only remembering that it was open for him by those who press. Each small iniquity in him makes them age gray and wrinkled. So ineluctably he changes in appearance, enthusiastically for their mirrors sake. Exemplifying their fragmented reflections, they will let him be. To be what they choose him to be. Then he will be tranquil. A whole new image. A new mouth. A new body. New eyes and someone elses mind. When he has emulated and has become different like them , no one will recognize him. Then he will continue to be the same person because he doesn’t know how to be anyone else but his given self.