Each one has a soapbox to stand on, a microphone to talk into. Everyone wants so desperately to be their friend but, only a few of them have an actual reason why. You talk to them, stroke their egos, sympathize with them, offer them comfort, sometimes you agree with them, let them know they aren't alone and that you share common things. Alas, it is like pouring water into a bucket full of holes. Your words spill out on to the ground where they eventually dry up and become nothing.
Like celebrities they collect bobbles and trophies and gifts from admirers but, ask them for an autograph or any response at all and you are generally met with dead silence. Occassionally one will grace you with their ethereal presence like a shard of light breaking through a dark hallway only to have the door slammed shut and everything be black as night once more.
We are not the pretty people they say but, feed us with your offerings just the same. Give us more, more, more, but never be rude and expect something in return that's not how things work here.
Like celebrities they collect bobbles and trophies and gifts from admirers but, ask them for an autograph or any response at all and you are generally met with dead silence. Occassionally one will grace you with their ethereal presence like a shard of light breaking through a dark hallway only to have the door slammed shut and everything be black as night once more.
We are not the pretty people they say but, feed us with your offerings just the same. Give us more, more, more, but never be rude and expect something in return that's not how things work here.