I looked around the world the other day
And realized I'm not the only one.
My individual problems have been special keepsakes
To which I have made to myself exclusive.
Even when I rant and rave over a few new tales,
I am reminded that the story is many centuries old.
Amongst a crowd we are the same,
And it gives no regards to the person I am.

I understand that my face is a blur like that passing train.
If you blink to quickly, I may not have been seen.
In the middle of earthly demolition,
my singular screams will not be heard.
As such, I'm not the only one
Taking misfortune to heart,
As we dismiss the pleasures of days brand new.
Cause when the troubles seem insurmountable,
A viewfinder will always display the scenes quite vividly.

I looked at this man sitting next to me
and wondered what his life is like?
Could it be picture perfect?
Can't possibly be, he's sitting next to me.
I was too scared to ask so I simply turned away.
Through the window, there's a woman
that left-footedly stumbled before crossing
The street and amazing looked down
as if to confirm with her right.
Maybe she taught her action were invisible,
but I wonder would there be a hint
of embarrassment if the spy that I just became were revealed.

It's amazing how much eye contact is avoided these days.
Submerged in reading materials or cellular use,
humanity has disconnected the personal age.
Fearful of getting too close, cautious of the public eye
Souls are shying away from the much-needed communal touch.
It's a shame really, that if a man lost his fortune
he would not be able to identify with a woman that lost her child.