Sale, Sail

The sale. The sail. Caught in the winds, caught in the wins. I wish I could play. But they play much better than me. I can watch their wins and root from the stands even though I would never get a uniform or even a thank you personally. All the support for the sport of sales, they will never know just how much I was for them. All for the support of their sails, they won't know just how much I was caught in them. On a sea of people, they sail on the sales.
Diamonds and gold. Diamonds and gold. They always know what is cool.
Everything unobtainable for me, that I desire, they have. So I admire them from this far away standing in the sea of people as they hover above me with voices louder than mine. They don't know that I am here, but part of the reason they are is because of me in some small way. Maybe. What they give me, I want to give back but I can't. I try to fill myself on their energy but they hold back just enough to keep the want.
It's all a show and half of what really happens, I will never know. They can stay rich, from the sale and the sail and I am sure to stay poor. In the sea. Of people just like me. Trying be filled with their energy, but never will.

Every misshapen event, I devour the story of it. I have personal issues that sit on the coat hanger. I'm consumed and my mind is molding clay. They shape this vessel without even knowing it personally. I think, if I think like them, then maybe I can play as good. It appears the more I support the sail and sale, the wind shifts and the wins I can never be part of.
What They dream up, I dream of. It's a secret of mine that everyone knows. It shows in my choice of speech and attire that I pretend is of my conception. Original Fakes, sit folded in my dresser drawers. Factory manufactured goods made with cheap labor, yet expensive names. They always know what is cool. So I try to chill like them with what little means I have of living. What little means I have for living...
On an economic downturn. The price is never cheap.
Certainly I can see change. A little jingle in my right pocket. Or maybe the neighborhood don't look as nice since...
The sale, the sail. We are the sea but they make the waves.