Ordinary
Being a savant.
Paintings strewn about on the floor.
When you make a mess?
It’s just more messy talent.
Being a savant.
Being given metals and trophies.
Your passion is untainted by disability.
There is nothing in this world, except ability, and nothingness.
Being ordinary.
When I was young.
Then I got old and gross.
Covered in ordinary moss.
Being ordinary.
It’s messy, and now I’m old and decrepit!
And I’m expected to clean everything perfectly.
Any mess I make is filth.
Being a savant.
Or being ordinary.
Being passionate.
We both used to be.
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