Maybe a black soul

I walk through the crowd feeling so alone, Voices shouting, yet they make no sound, Painted smiles, cardboard masks worn, I search for someone real, but find only illusions. Amidst all these white souls, I believe I’m the black soul, carrying my weight and my weariness. The urge to understand, to feel once more, While everyone shows, while the world implores. They complain of the pains that plague them, They do not see the angels weeping outside, People shining, yet to them, just reflections, Drowned in a sea of ego, of unsatisfied lives. Amidst all these white souls, Am I perhaps a black soul? with my weight and my weariness. The urge to understand, to feel once more, While everyone shows, while the world implores. But I hold on, with an open heart, In the silence, I hear a subtle song, Every tear shed is a story to be told, And in this gray world, I just want to shine. Oh, amid all these white souls, Yes, I am a black soul, with my weight and my weariness. I choose emotion, I choose to listen, While the rest of the world is ready to sell out. In all this chaos, I smile and resist, Because perhaps being so different isn’t a flaw at all, In this carousel of souls, I sing and dance, Proud to be who I am, without any regret.