By John Paul Dodds
I'm standing in a field of Cardboard People,
Like movie-star cut-outs;
Blank eyes, glazed smiles.
My words fall on them unheard, unheeded,
like tears in a rainstorm.
Cardboard ears are deaf to me.
My cries for help lost in the sound of their laughter,
inane, insane; delights of a consciousness paper-thin.
But I'm not the only one.
Alone in the crowd; screaming, unheard.
Laughter's echo but a cacophony of screams
Melding together, a mirror image of happiness
Pain buried deep; loss, loneliness, despair
The notes come together into something that mimics joy but contains none,
Hidden behind painted cardboard faces.