cynic

i don't want to be like you-
i don't want to look like you;
i don't want to be envious of any of you.

i feel it all through me, deep enough for it to ache and twist in my bones.
moving and spinning to seek older times, better times when nothing was so contrite as now.
eyes moving back forth, from you to me- but the mirror was too blurry to see.