I knew a man who thought he was an island amidst a violent sea.

Like me.

And this man could see that I was smiling, but really all the while he knew it was not glee. 

He approached me speaking about pain, but all I could hear is the gentle refrain of the sea.

Then he screamed in my face, eyes closed shut with rage. 

“Do not come to my place, I am not on stage.” 

He insisted of this. I tried to dissuade.

“I am not one of you.”

Still, I did persuade.

Wanted to know exactly why I was grinning, completely unaware from the very beginning. 

There's a storm rolling, riding the horizon. Still, he couldn't see the fact that I was winning.

Then he screamed in my face, eyes closed shut with rage. 

“Do not come to my place, I am not on stage.” 

He insisted of this. I tried to dissuade.

“I am not one of you.”

Still, I did persuade.