Seem

Everyone here is in shock. The few that are left, are grieving. Others, solemn.  It seems, that instead of thinking, why them, everyone is thinking, why me? No one wants to be left on this planet. No one except… me.

They do not seem to understand that, here, every time they look into the distance with mourning, was every time I was looking into the distance with hope, there. The past, is past. They do not seem to understand that, we do not know each other. We can be anyone and everyone we want to be. They do not seem to understand that this is a new page. A new beginning for humanity. They do not seem to understand that this… is… it. Or, maybe, they do understand. Maybe, they just can’t face reality. Maybe, they can’t face the future. Maybe, they can’t face themselves. Or, maybe, they just do not seem.

Seeming… it is a funny thing. It is a funny thing that toys with my mind—plays with my heart. If everything seemed… well, nothing would be quite what it would be, now would it? Nothing would be quite what it would be. If only everything seemed.

The clock on the floor would not seem to be ticking.

The regrets of my life would not seem to be hurting.

The  breath of my soul would not seem to be succumbing to the darkness.

Untitled

Sometimes, life throws itself at me.

It throws curve balls, and fast balls,

And sometimes the pitch is so crazy, that I feel I can't hit the ball.

I live up to everyone's expectations,

I am told that I am perfect, all the time.

And sometimes I feel like the world depends on me.

Everyone closes their doors on me,

And I am left standing alone in the hallway,

Trying to unlock everyone's door.

And sometimes, I don't have enough keys.

Sometimes, I feel as if it has been me who has locked themselves away.

I try to be the light in everyone's tunnel,

Be the dancing feet to the never ending beat.

But the rain always seems to cast a shadow over the horizon.

Sometimes dancing in the rain is so hard for me, that,

Sometimes,

I strike out. 

Linked.

If they say that the chain is only as strong as the weakest link, why do we make weak links even weaker? Aren’t we just hurting our chain, ourselves, by putting down those who are weaker than us? What if we took the initiative to make these weak links stronger—bring them to the strength that we pursue. Think of all we could do then. Just think. Our chain is only as strong as our weakest link. But… what if there were no weak links? What if… we all worked together as one—as a chain would—and all be strong? What if?

Why do we play life like it is a game? A chessboard.. there is a queen, a king, some knights… and there are pawns. We aren’t afraid to sacrifice those little guys. They are in the front row, taking the blows of the other team...of you… but, yet, they are protecting you. Don’t you understand? These pawns want so badly to be a part of that royal kingdom that really isn’t so royal on the inside. We hurt them so much that they fly off of the board. We are left with just our royal family. And our revenge.

Guilt.

Pride.

Ego.

Shame.

Reputations.

Whatever you want to call it, we are left with evil. How would we vent out these foul thoughts? We take it out on the back row. The precious ones. We would fight and fight until the others have been injured, and pretty soon, the only one left standing on one lonesome square. Is. You.  And what is worse than this-- being alone? Fighting alone. Left to defend yourself against the other team. Against your team. When, in reality, you always needed these pawns as much as they need you. Because, you aren’t bringing down individual links of this chain. No, you will never. You are bringing down yourself.

Life is a Broadway show. You will always have those people cheering you on in the audience, so far away… so far beneath you. They are the ones that don’t really care for you—they just like watching you from below with hopes that they could one day stand where you do. You will always have those people cheering you on from backstage… so close… yet, they aren’t on stage until scene twelve. They support you—they care… yet, not enough for you to call them a friend. You will always have those people cheering you on from the dressing rooms… yet, they cannot see your beautiful face. These people truly do wish that they could see your big debut, but, how could they, when they have something more important to do. The attention, of course, comes only if you are the star. The adoring crowd will roar, clap, and cheer your name as you exit stage with an armful of flowers, but there will always be the person left to sweep up the petals.  A person who would be willing to pick up your leftover drops of gratitude. A person whose collection would gradually grow, and grow, until they have enough petals to be the blossoms of hundreds of roses. A person who would have thousands of petals, but not one stem to piece the petals together.

And when we hear of more cuts to the wrist, more medication to the brain, more wounds to the body—to the soul, we just blow it off.

“Oh, we knew they were that kind of person.”

“No one likes them anyway.”

“Everyone already knows.”

Words like these blur our thoughts. We know, inside, that we need to help—bring this person roses, for once, instead of just petals.  But… wouldn’t that bring our chain down? If we betray our words-- the “I won’t” that once followed the desperate words “please…don’t tell anyone,” we would bring our chain down. If we let them be, it would bring our chain down. Falling… falling  to the ground under the weight of everyone else. Ask yourself… would you be willing to free fall for our chain to come back stronger?

Because, after all, our chain is only as strong as our weakest link. 

Response to "A Clean, Well-lighted Place" Text to Film

“Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada.”

I feel like this line means a lot to the overall tone and voice of this story. Exactly translated, this quote means: Therefore nothing and nothing, nothing and nothing. Our nothing who art in nothing as nothing, be thy name thy kingdom nothing thy will be nothing in nothing as it is in anything. Give us this nothing our daily nothing and nothing us our nothing as we nothing our nothings and nothing us not into nothing but deliver us from nothing; because nothing. Looking at the structure of this quote, I think that it is paralleling the “Our Father” from Christianity. By substituting key religious and meaningful words with “nothing” or “nada” I think that the author is portraying that he believes in nothing, and that nothing is the central focus of his life.

However, I thought that this line in the film adaptation was incredibly mashed together and confusing. After the camera roles down the line of “nothing” people in the bar, the nada speech starts, where I think it should have started as the camera showed the people with a life of misery. I, in addition, did not like the 7 (about) voices saying this line at once… I felt like it took away from the meaning of the text. The director/actors should have said little bits, as they go down the line, so that one person would say a few words, the next person would say a few words, and so forth. This would create a whole different effect in the film. By having many people murmur the lines at once, the audience is being shown that these people live in a web of nothingness, when really, nothing is nothing so why complicate it? By having people go bit by bit, the audience is exposed to a whole different meaning of this scene. Rather than complication of nothingness, it would just state their lives of nothing, their lives of nothing that they are all bonded with.

Deflecting Deceptions

Author's Note: I know that I haven't posted a creative piece in a while, so I decided to write a Stream of Consciousness, and this is how it turned out-- some prose poetry. Feel free to leave constructive feedback and opinions. :)

If I were to tell you to wear a red shirt, you’d wear a green one.

 If you thought that I looked happy, you would ask me “What’s wrong?”

If you saw me start to walk towards you, you’d walk from me.

You and I live in a world of opposites, an expression of life.  I don’t know what ever happened to make us communicate in such ways that deflect the others’ idea, but somehow, somehow, that little bit of craziness makes sense when I’m with you.

Somehow.

That world of opposites, isn’t really opposite as long as we both live in that dimension together. Without you, without me, I would just be a chaotic ball of nothing, but somehow,

somehow,

when we collide, we both aren’t nothing anymore.

 That green shirt looks so much better on you anyway, and really,

when I looked happy, the insides were hurting as surely as heaven. 

Although I walk towards you and you walk away, if you turn the image of yourself upside down, walking from me turns to walking to me. 

Walking from me turns to walking to me. 

The Colors of Eyes

Everything in nature is connected, as a cycle. A newly delivered mist from the sky waters the seeds that hide underneath dirt, and we are left with beautiful, lush grass which is then trampled on by graceful animals prancing through the woods. Everything in nature is connected, as a cycle.

 Just like everything in nature is connected through a cycle, a pattern, so are humans. We are all connected with visions, with actions, with our eyes. We look to someone else’s eye color to determine what we think of them, and then that person mocks that behavior in return. We are all connected through the colors of eyes. 

Ponyboy Curtis from S.E. Hilton’s The Outsiders is just one of many who admit to looking at the color of his gang member’s eyes to portray to us-- as the readers--his perceptions of them. From Dally’s piercing blue eyes to Johnny’s big black eyes, symbolism and truth behind each character’s eyes is reflected perfectly in their personalities.

 You know that kind of person in your life that you can totally trust, and you can run to for anything? Soda is that kind of person in Ponyboy’s life. Strong, grounding, enduring… it only makes sense that his eyes are brown. Deep brown, as the dirt on the ground may lay. Forever there and ready to catch you when you fall. Deep brown, as the trunk of the tree. Sturdy and protects you from harm. Deep brown, as in a warm winter sweater. Cozy, and keeps you from the cold of the world. We can see these qualities especially once Ponyboy is hurt and has to be taken to the hospital, and Soda takes over the motherly role, and takes care of Ponyboy. Soda says, “We stayed with you so much that the doctor told us we were going to end up in the hospital ourselves if we didn't get some sleep. But we didn't get any anyway...” (139). Deep brown—Soda.

 Johnny is also one of the people Ponyboy can trust most in The Outsiders—in fact, I would call him Ponyboy’s best friend. That saying “a friend will bail you out of jail, but a best friend will be right there with you saying, ‘Wow—we screwed that one up!” applies to Johnny perfectly. Johnny is the guy who ran away from murder, taking Ponyboy with him, and setting a church on fire (accidentally of course). And, although Johnny may seem like the adventurous type, he actually is nervous, full of secrets, defeated. He is vulnerable, scrawny, the weakest link in the chain. His past holds him back. Just like the night—dark, unknowing. We can’t see anything clearly. What color would best represent defeat and darkness? Black. Pitch black. Black—Johnny.

 Although we have comforting people in our lives, there are also those people that make us… shiver. They are cold, mean, hard. Icy. A piercing blue would suit this person well. It only makes sense that Dally’s eyes are blazing blue. But, like the snowfalls of and ice of winter, though dangerous and cold, can also be beautiful. We can see the soft side of Dally when Ponyboy and Johnny ask him for help to run away. Dally says “’Git goin’!’ He messed up Johnny’s hair. ‘Take care, kid,’ he said softly” (56). Icy blue—Dally. 

The brotherly role in Ponyboy’s household is played by, none other than Ponyboy’s actual sibling, Darry. Darry is the classic older brother: controlling, annoying, but also, the occasional supporting and loving. Dally’s blue eyes merged with the energy and invulnerableness of the color green make Darry’s eyes unique. Grass would represent this kind of green perfectly; it is soft, and springing up from the ground with all of its energy. Darry’s actions speak louder than his words, and we can see his love through his actions to Ponyboy. “ Soda was shaking me gently. ‘Hey. Ponyboy, wake up. You still got to get to the house.’ ‘Hmmmmm,’ I said sleepily, and lay down in the seat. I couldn’t have gotten up to save my life. I could hear Soda and Darry, but as if from a great distance. ‘Oh, come on, Ponyboy,’ Soda pleaded, shaking me a little harder, ‘we’re sleepy too.’ I guess Darry was tired of fooling around, because he picked me up, and carried me in...” (92). I personally think that by carrying someone when they are weak is the ultimate symbol of love—you are picking someone up when they are hurt, when they fall. You are there to support them. Blue green—Darry.

 Two-Bit’s eyes are gray. You could say that his eyes are like a storm—daring and dangerous, but I think that his stormy eyes portray the fact that he is unpredictable. Watching the weather, it is hard to predict the exact time a storm will hit—sometimes we are taken totally by surprise, sometimes we are a few days off, sometimes just a few hours. Two-Bit is stormy in that sense. One minute, he is making funny remarks, the next he is being escorted by police because of, yet another, shoplifting spree. Two-Bit’s behavior is impulsive just like a storm. Gray—Two Bit.


 Just like how all of these characters are emotionally connected between the bond of a gang, and connected through Ponyboy, these characters are also connected by the symbolism of nature in their eye colors. We have deep brown, like dirt, pitch black, like the night, icy blue, like winter, energizing green, like grass, and soft gray, like a storm. When all of these physical qualities are added together as a cycle, and work together as a team, we have one beautiful earth—one beautiful friendship.

Her mirror,
A clean slate,
Of crisp reflective pools,
Slanting to her bare yet welcoming walls.

My mirror,
A whiteboard of reminders, notes, and fun,
Hand prints seal the mirror with memories of resting my hand on the surface-- applying stage makeup to my eyes,
Or, perhaps, from tracing my image while singing into a hairspray bottle.

Her bag,
A backpack stuffed orderly with some pens,
Her valued camera(s),
A few paintbrushes.

My bag,
A pink bundle of joy,
Cluttered with my laptop, my vocal book for the latest musical I have pursued,
And my sweat-moistened dance shoes.

Her dreams,

My dreams,

Sit.

Watching us from our mirrors.

Waiting in our bags.

Waiting

No matter where I go,

What I do,

I'm second place,

Compared to you.

You comfort me,

Find my weak spot,

Say it's alright,

When we know it's not.

And words of kindness,

Seem to fail,

When sadness seems,

To tip the scale.

For what are words?

Broken promises that mock,

My eyes close

as the clock "tick-tocks".

Shatter

Millions of them, falling, falling, to the ground. The eyes, the horrible, horrible, eyes mocking perhaps, what we would call a mirror. The delicate glass floats in the air—a portal to our past—a dangerous trap, that one.  They attempt to lure us to the dark side, and they will, unless we wait, wait, for them to… shatter.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Broken Trees

In this sliver of nothing,

Absence,

It holds everything.

Demons,

They try to cut normality,

Shape it,

In their unwilling, vastly envious,

Hands.

Shape it,

So that the insanity,

Might fall through the cracks,

Of their wisps we call fingers.

The memories,

Held up by long, ever stretching pillars,

Trees,

That, in the making,

Seem to lost themselves.

And,

Like a cell,

We are enclosed in strips of irrationality.

Memories,

Of broken trees.

TEA!

Author’s Note: In this word choice and context piece, I tried using parallel structure with punctuation from Edgar Allan Poe’s piece “The Tell Tale Heart” to try and add the same… madness to this piece. Using symbolism, metaphors, and other syntactical devices also added to the insanity of this well known character.

TEA!—clean cup, clean cup—move down!  Time—time, it marches on its stomach—we have got no time! No time. None—none! 

They look at me like I am—what?—insane! Their deranged eyes penetrate through me as if they are inflicted with some kind of madness—yes, madness indeed. Their lopsided smirks trying to bring me to—to the-- the insanityness of the world. Their rather wonky hats sit atop their askew heads. Indeed, two negatives make a positive—does that imply that their crooked hats don’t sit atop their crooked heads? That their hats sit atop their heads? I contemplate—NOT!

Especially that—cursed, yes, cursed!—rabbit! “Late I’m, late I’m, late I’m goodbye, hello, say to time no, date important very a for late I’m late I’m!” Surely he too is mad—he carries a pocket watch telling time two days slow, of course he is late!—the watch is full of wheels! Can you believe it? Wheels and springs—tickers and tockers! I fancy jamming the bloody thing with butter—of only the best—tea, mustard—yes, but mustard?! Don’t I be silly! LEMON, lemon—yes, that’s different—indeed that’s…

Tea... immaculate, immaculate... move down.  Time... time, it marches on its stomach... we have got no time. No time. None... none.

What is the hatter with me?

All Since

Author's Note: This is a comparative essay used in Social Studies to compare the book "My Brother Sam is Dead" to the movie "The Patriot". Enjoy!

What if you were living in a world where you had to worry about wars starting in your own backyard? Or if you had to take over the responsibilities and obligations of your older brother who had just abandoned you and your family to fend for themselves as he fought for the American Country? What if, given the circumstances, you were forced to change from an immature, young boy, to a sensible man in a matter of months? Both Thomas Martin from The Patriot, directed by Roland Emmerich, and Tim Meeker from My Brother Sam is Dead, written by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier have dealt with these issues since their older brothers have gone to war.

Both Revolutionary War based stories start with Thomas and Tim torn between two sides of the Revolution, and two sides of their families.  The fathers of each family, Benjamin Martin and “Father” Meeker, don’t necessarily support the King’s devious actions, but at the same time, want to keep their families together. They do not support their eldest sons, Gabriel Martin and Sam Meeker, leaving the nest to face so many dangers. Thomas and Tim are left undecided between two sides of their now separated families—brother or father…. All since their brothers went to war.

No matter what side both brothers choose, they will always have that admiration for their brothers that all siblings have for each other. They will stick up for one another no matter the circumstances, no matter the cost, and this theory is portrayed perfectly in both stories when Thomas and Tim stick up for their older brothers. Thomas Martin’s older brother is practically captured by the British after a small fight at their house, and Thomas tries knock the British off his brother, and in return, costs him his life. A less tragic version of this happens in My Brother Sam is Dead, when Sam is sentenced to death, and Tim musters enough courage to talk to the General, and try to release Sam. Lives are taken, all since their  brothers went to war.

Not only are both Thomas and Tim torn between two sides of their families, and they both are willing to cost their lives for their brothers, but both of these pieces end in death of the older brother. Although Thomas is already waiting for Gabriel, Tim has the burden of not only living his life knowing that his older brother is dead, but to make matters worse, is awed to watch his brother die. Even after their families were ripped apart, and everyone had to make sacrifices because of Sam and Gabriel’s leaving, they both ended up dead whether or not it was fair… and all since their brothers went to war.

All since their brothers went to war, families are broken. All since their brothers went to war, lives are taken. All since their brothers went to war, tragic stories are released. All since their brothers went to war, their fathers live a life of regret. All since their brothers went to war, six year old girls live with death lurking around them. All since their brothers went to war.

All since their brothers went to war.

Here Today POV

     Author's Note: This is my POV piece using the book "Here Today" by Ann M. Martin. The first section was taken from the book (pages 195 to 197) from Ellie's point of view, and I used this text to change the point of view to Doris's view. Please leave feedback!


        Ten minutes later, the five Dingmans, some of them groggy, were seated at their kitchen table. Doris wore an apron and walked around the table, serving doughnuts as if she were Lorna the waitress.
       "Isn't this nice?" she said.
     Ellie looked out the kitchen window at the dreary day. A fine drizzle was falling, and a mist had set in. She peered at the thermometer outside the window. Forty-two degrees. And she shivered. But she had to agree that sitting around the kitchen table with her family, a plate of doughnuts, and Kiss leaning against her legs, was very nice indeed.
       "It's great," said Marie, her mouth full of chocolate doughnut. "Can we have doughnuts every morning?"
       "Well, hon, I don't know about that. I guess it will be up to your father."
       "Up to Daddy? Why?" asked Marie.
       "Yeah, why?" echoed Albert.
     Before Doris answered, before any words left her mouth, Ellie felt her own mouth go dry. She set her half-eaten doughnut down on her plate and looked all around the kitchen-- at the cupboards with the chipped green paint, at the plate shaped like a fish that had been hanging over the doorway for as long as she could remember, at the section of counter between the oven and the refrigerator that the Dingmans had called the Messy Corner-- but she couldn't look at Doris. Ellie let her eyes droop to her plate again, to the remains of the doughnut and waited for Doris's answer.
       "Why?" repeated Doris. "Well... because-- because of my exciting news!" Doris pushed her chair away from the table. She stood up and began to speak. As she spoke, she moved around the table standing behind each of the Dingmans in turn, her hands on their shoulders. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," Doris said. "That's where I've been the last couple of days. I needed to think."
     "I can think in our house," said Albert.
     Doris removed her hands from Albert's shoulders and leaned around to look into his eyes. "Well, I couldn't," she said. "Not about this."
     She moved on to Marie. "It's hard to know where to begin."
     "Begin at the beginning," said Marie, tipping her head back and smiling at Doris.
     And Ellie thought, She doesn't know. Marie doesn't know that this is bad news.
       "It's even hard to know where the beginning is," said Doris. "I think the beginning was a long time ago. Maybe before you were born. But the thing is... what I've been thinking about..." Doris drew in a deep breath and moved on to Ellie. "The thing is... life is short." (195-197)



       Ten minutes later, the five Dingmans, some of them groggy, were seated at the kitchen table. I bustled from place mat to place mat, serving doughnuts the way some women wear their makeup-- to cover what was coming.
     "Isn't this nice?" I said, maintaining the act. Man, I'll make it to "The Ed Sullivan Show" without a problem with this kind of performance!
      I continued to whirl around the kitchen, a tornado of doughnuts, OJ, and sticky hands. Only a few more hours and this will all be over, I thought. Although, doughnuts won't repair anything at this point-- I have already made my way out of this life.
       "It's great," said Marie, her mouth full of chocolate doughnut. "Can we have doughnuts every morning?"
       "Well, hon, I don't know about that. I guess it will be up to your father."
       "Up to Daddy? Why?" asked Marie.
       "Yeah, why?" echoed Albert.
     I paused, unsure of how to start. Utterly shamed. Oh well, it's not like I'm gonna see them again....
     "Why?" I awkwardly repeated. "Well... because-- because of my exciting news!" I stood up, and confidently pushed my chair away from the table. I began to speak. As I started, I moved around the table standing behind each of the Dingmans in turn, my hands on their shoulders. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," I said. "That's where I've been the last couple of days. I needed to think."
       "I can think in our house," said Albert.
      I removed my hands from Albert's shoulders and leaned around to look into his eyes. Motherly enough, right? "Well, I couldn't," I said, fairly irritated on the inside-- Why does he have to be so stubborn? "Not about this."
I moved on to Marie. "It's hard to know where to begin."
       "Begin at the beginning," said Marie, tipping her head back and smiling at me. Ugh, that ugly, toothy, smile... she doesn't know. She doesn't know what's coming. They don't know what's coming.
 "It's even hard to know where the beginning is," I replied. "I think the beginning was a long time ago. Maybe before you were born" Heck yeah, before you were born! Your birth made everything ten times worse!   "But the thing is... what I've been thinking about..." I drew in a deep breath and moved on to Ellie. Ellie knows. She always knew. D*** it, I have created a monster that has outsmarted me. "The thing is... life is short." 




Analysis: When this story is being told from Ellie's point of view, you as the reader feel pretty badly for Ellie-- from her point of view, she is being abandoned by her mom who had never stopped to care for her in the first place. Ellie has pieced together from her mother's actions in the past months that this is bad news-- "She doesn't know. Marie doesn't know that this is bad news." We also interpret, from Ellie's point of view, that Ellie is disappointed with her mother's lack of care-- "but she couldn't look at Doris." Once the view changes to Doris's interpretations, we see that Doris cares a lot about herself-- "I have already made my way out of this life."-- more than she cares about the upcoming of her kids. The changes were made from Ellie to Doris because both are very different characters. Ellie almost has a motherly instinct to her because of Doris, who is busy out in the world trying to "accomplish her dreams."


   

     

Come Home OneRepublic

Author's Note: This is a song analysis of the piece "Come Home" by OneRepublic. Enjoy!
Hello world, hope you're listening-- The artist is awakening the world,  preparing to show us beauty.Forgive me if I’m young or speaking out of turnBut there’s someone I've been missing-- Suggests that he is searching for someone-- something. He is searching for freedom in this war.And I think that they could be the better half of me-- He wants a free person, a free him, not someone who is told what to do, wear, be. He is nothing without a free soul.They’re in the wrong place tryin' to make it right-- Implies that other soldiers, fighters are "in the wrong place" (across seas, away from their loved ones) and they are trying to "make it right" (killing souls for souls) but...But I'm tired of justifying-- He is done repeating himself, done telling others that you shouldn't have to kill other souls for you in return to receive your own. The war shouldn't be fighter to fighter.
So I say to you, come home, come home-- Not begging to the soldiers, but rather, a plea to freedom to come home.'Cause I’ve been waiting for ya for so long, for so long-- A realization that this soldier hasn't been waiting for this war to end, He has been waiting for liberty.And right now there's a war between the vanities-- Refers to the competition between excessive pride.But all I see is you and me-- When the artist looks in the mirror, he can only envision himself as a free man and nothing otherwise.And the fight for you is all I've ever known-- All he has in life, all he wants, is his liberty, and he puts all energy into it. The fight is all he has ever known.So come home
I get lost in the beauty of everything I see-- This guy has feelings that are the opposite of the rest of the world's. We are obsessed with material items, but he sees beauty in life.The world ain’t half as bad as they paint it to be-- I thought of women in particular when reading this line-- Americans are the only country to shave our legs, we wear cakes of make-up to cover our inner beauty, we look to superstars for inspiration, we spend half of our time on the scale deciding if we should or shouldn't eat that cupcake, we strive for perfection, when in reality, we already have it. We paint a beautiful world with flaws and problems.If all the sons and all the daughters stop to take it in-- No matter what color, no matter what religion, no matter what size, all of the sons and daughters of God, everyone, will see the beauty of the world as this guy sees it.Well hopefully the hate subsides and the love can begin-- 
It might start now, yeahOr maybe I'm just dreaming out loud-- Isn't it sad that this person doesn't think that hate can subside and love can begin easily? He knows it will be tough, maybe even far from possible for the world to love.
But until then...Come home, come home'Cause I’ve been waiting for ya for so long, for so longut until then come home, come homeAnd right now there's a war between the vanitiesBut all I see is you and meAnd the fight for you is all I've ever known, ever knownSo come home, ooh
Everything I can’t be is everything you should be-- The audience changes from speaking to freedom itself to the citizens and the world he is trying to gain freedom for. If this guy is fighting in the war, he will probably never be free (he is taking the risk of death). He is fighting so that others in the country, others in next generations, will be free. Everything he can't be-- free-- is everything you should be-- free.And that’s why I need you here-- Now the artist narrows down the audience to specifically men and anyone willing to risk there life as this man is. He needs you here.Everything I can’t be is everything you should beAnd that’s why I need you here
So I say to you, come home, come home-- Not begging to the soldiers, but rather, a plea to freedom to come home.'Cause I’ve been waiting for ya for so long, for so long-- A realization that this soldier hasn't been waiting for this war to end, He has been waiting for liberty.And right now there's a war between the vanities-- Refers to the competition between excessive pride.But all I see is you and me-- When the artist looks in the mirror, he can only envision himself as a free man and nothing otherwise.And the fight for you is all I've ever known-- All he has in life, all he wants, is his liberty, and he puts all energy into it. The fight is all he has ever known.So come home, come home--  A last whisper in the night, the final plea-- come home.