An Empty Division

I never really got to know real people

until that time
as they walked
beside me
and started talking
and started weeping, reminding
Those words they utter
were meaningless
but either quiet
nonsense
those words, they tried to tell me
were not meaningless
were cruel, were cold, sharpest
made me remind of myself, brutally
those words you swallowed
those words you spited out
I would have kissed you
I would have talked about myself
but those words you were trying to say
they were mean, they were kingly
those people, they talked about
where merely real
and I couldn't talk about them
'cause they would seem much more
real
than they really were
and those stories
and those faces
and that faded matter
or substance
inside those divisions
aparently so empty
aparently so dolefoul
and the silhouettes reflected upon the walls
moving and clattering
as separated souls
and you talked about them
and I could clearly visualize them
but not reach them
and you could clearly cry about them
and remember them
and I was jealous
and you were sentimental
both of you
and I could only ear you gibberishing
the dismay I felt
the way the world seemed tubby, mournfoul
I realize it had always looked that way
but not inside those divisions.