No one knows what they like. We look to others.
“Is this worth liking?” is always given by somebody else.
The mob triumphs every time.
No one does anything just for you.
O madame. O monster. How do you feel?
You were fortunate to have a trait one person loved
but they were alone. So they weren’t real.
Remember when you were young and one you ignored,
also silly and young, loved you?
You ask others to find out how to feel.
You almost existed. That was your “soul mate.”
But reflections are words, words are infinite
and abundance can never be real.
That was “your chance,” as they say.
But you searched the crowd. That was the deal.