Marcy

We see the things another does,
Believing to know what they feel,
And just because they don’t feel the same,
Doesn’t make it any less real,
Their path they walk in their own shoes,
Maybe even wearing the same brand,
Yet all that’s in them calls out loud,
Their inner most demands.
 
 
We ask ourselves what is love,
Does it really exist at all,
Not understanding how it’s still living,
Maybe it cushions our fall,
Opinions number the same as people,
With some on which we agree,
Though sometimes people give up hope,
Why is it I still believe.
 
 
We walk through places in our lives,
That we consider both heaven and hell,
Circumstance makes one person struggle,
But at the same moment another does well,
We televise our opinions,
Just a method of subduing will,
Pretending everyone should feel the same,
Because you live up on the hill.
 
 
It all differs from person to person,
The feelings and to what degree,
But because you judge yourself as successful,
Doesn’t mean you’re the judge of me,
You might stand shaking your head,
Thinking I should feel the same,
Yet if one word can have different meanings,
Can one emotion have different names.
 
 
Some of us discuss the colors,
Yet some are color blind,
Happiness lives in different faces,
Because love has  no real design,
We’re always fussing and fighting,
About what someone else says is wrong,
But opinions have never equaled fact,
So will we ever get along.
 
 
The society we’re told to believe in,
Has distinctly different sets of rules,
And if you have lots of money,
Each dollar is used as a tool,
You might have all the latest gadgets,
Believing you have more and others have less,
Yet love is all we really need,
It’s not in the mind, it beats in the chest.

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