What do they know?

 

What do they know?

About him?

About the person he was?

He is?

And he'll be?

They think they know him

Oh, so very well,

But what do they know?

About he who;

Walks amongst the crowd,

With a broad smile

But sobs in a corner

With a wine glass

In one hand

And a cigar

In the other,

When he's alone?

What do they know?

About the times

He had fallen;

So hard

That he's standing stiff and bold;

Today,

As if nothing can move him

And what do they know?

About the breeze

That shook him, broke him

Tore him apart,

He and his fragile past?

They think they know him

When they read his poems

But what do they know?

About the pain he went through;

That made him create, compose and present?

They think they know him,

When they read the stories;

He drafted of perfect love

But what do they know

About the relationship he failed?

They think they know him

When they see him smiling

So full of life,

Standing still,

Young, figured out

And always accompanied

But what do they know?

About his self-loathing,

Scattered pieces,

Loneliness,

And the misery;

He's learnt to cope with?

They think they know him,

Oh so well, so very well,

But they know nothing.