Special

Mad people are just plain sad people. In fact, we could do away with one of the words. Their madness is the only escape from their sadness. So much that they almost become it.

Just when everything is about to be perfect and beautiful, just when things seem so unrealistically right, just when every single block seems to fall in place, life becomes unbearable. Just in time.

To remind you. It's the same life you lived. What were you thinking little boy?

It's nice to be special. It would seem. Turns out, it's not, always. Special kids have predictably special needs. They are always loved a little more than others. Put on a pedestal exactly 73 feet high.

Sometimes, these kids, will just want to come down and play. It's difficult to tell from down here what they really want. So they'll just wail in the sky. People below will look up at them and smile. Nice kids. Nice kids. Always loved. Always there.

I could sit by a pond all my life. And look at the ripples that shine and dance on the street lights as they go by. The street lights, visibly stirred, just lie there. Like street lights should. The ripples shine as they go.