Glasses

A tale about a lonesome little someone.

He doesn't do much.
He's empty in all his thoughts.
It's back and forth,
up and down with him.
He looks through the glass
that defines his life.
He sees moments that aren't his.
Colors, objects and shapes pass him by.
Light by dark.
Dark by light.
It's all the same.
Some things that pass him by are blurs.
Some stay, but do nothing.
Others go and do what he has no knowledge of.
He doesn't understand the things he sees.
He knows his world and no one elses.
Maybe not though.
He will never know this way of living.
The one with the books and banter.
The one with murder and guillotines.
Love. Doesn't exist.
Laughter. Is foreign.
Anger. Concealed.
Everything else. Gone.
He feels,
sees,
hears,
smells,
tastes.
To an extent.
The bad and good things he sees,
are the ones he won't ever experience.
Never know the meaning of.
Never be able to solve or
Talk about it.
He has no voice.
He won't be heard.
He isn't' heard.
What does he want?
What does he need?
Is he afraid?
We will never know.
Why?
Because.
He.
Is a fish.