Our specialties try ring through their ears,
only to ring out tuneless spiels.
No guarantee of epitome, we all lack our own distinctions.
Distinct in the way people recognize difference.
Different in the way no one recognizes our own distinctions.

And What specialties lay waste to those untrained eyes,
the untrained eyes who gaze blankly at a blank slate,
gazing, never phazed, by what could lie in plain sight,
like gazing at a white page laced with white intricate designs;
invisible to even the most accurate eye.

What is to become of someone who stays out of the light,
who screams silence, and sings in dreams;
When all else is out of sight,
no one seeks something that no one can see.