Act II

                    I never like dogs.

I guess that says a lot about me, doesn't it?

  I don't know. I was never great at reading people,
       the innocence in me keeping me from seeing the evil,
                             the reasons beneath words and actions.
Now I tell myself you can't really know someone,
            but again, maybe I'm just trying to trick myself into feeling
                     better about not knowing something.

    You see, I built my life around knowledge.
                    Until one day, they took all I knew and threw it at the wall,
  it shattered like glass -
                                   the knowledge and the wall
    that all that knowledge had built around me,
                         until I was surrounded by words, words, words,
                             thick and solid like red suburban bricks,
                                            and they meant nothing,
                                                      for I couldn't see.

   Thus I find myself free, and find a new land,
               new adventures, but I've become
                                empty again, and I walk around confused.
         Should I fill myself back again? If so,
                                           what should I stuff me with?

             Or should I stay empty until a sign comes to me?

                          Well, I can only hope it isn't a dog.