Un-Extraordinary

What am I?

Who am I?

What will I be?

Somewhere there are others

who are thinking, acting, feeling—like me.

Twisting and turning in the

tyrannically terrible turmoil

of the day-to-day, not wanting things to stay,

yet always hoping it won't fade to black.

The symbiotic oneness of the Un-extraordinary,

(But that's all to the contrary)

Is the omnipresent entity that pushes us into one,

Yet makes "one" seem hellishly alone.

The limited permutations of daily tasking,

The continuous and overzealous asking of:

"How was your day, darling?"

All the while basking,

in the shadow of monotony,

The life-long lobotomy

that is thrust upon so many,

Who are deemed to be,

Hopelessly un-extraordinary.

What am I?

Who am I?

What will I be?

I'm sure you know as well as I,

That the majority,

think, act, and feel, like me.