1:46 a.m.

23: Tiny

sometimes I feel small.

small enough to climb in a hole

with a mouse or two,

and lament about the difficulties

of being so minuscule

in your huge imagination.

my small hand in yours

dragging me through the crowd of people.

we sit on the steps surrounded

by hundreds of people so similar to us

yet I somehow never fail

to make myself feel alone.

it can be quite a pain

trying to find a reason to put on your coat

to go get yourself some coffee

when it feels like you have nothing to gain.

sometimes I don't feel.

one time I was on the top of a building

and I did not know quite what I felt.

I guess you could say I felt separated.

I was the only person up there,

while everyone else was down there,

living their lives.

and I sat there in silence

watching the small people below,

and I felt so minuscule.

c.d.