Quiet for the masses. Be so quiet. Your words aren't needed. Not mighty like a champion. Not mighty like a poor man. Familiarity is shunned. Love floats on mine. The Rule of Gold. Do unto others. These words aren't welcome. Needs of the masses. They want real. I am real. I'm not the right kind of real. He wants my pain. He wants my fire. Fire is hard to pen. It burns the paper. Sadness bleeds the ink. A smile. Too painful for too many. If pain is what the masses yearn for then take my smile and let it burn into your foreheads. I send it out. If pain is what you want, the cry for my lack of it. Cry for my joy. Burn your papers and bleed.