I don't want to change the world

I used to hold the earth between the palms of my hands and squint. The corner of my nostril curling upwards in disgust, reacting to a foul smell in the air - pollution emitting from the gruesome thing before me.

What a senseless place, I thought then, and scrutinized it between my fingers...poking and prodding, shaking my head from side to side and dripping with condescending arrogance. If only they could see what I see. That would be enough.

Ah, but I was childish and naive.

No, I don't want to change the world.

I used to call them to follow me. Just listen, I cried impatiently... 

Just see the way I see. I thought, if only they would understand my infallible command.

But no, not anymore. I don't want to change the world.

No, not anymore.

I bounced the thing up and down, tossed it aside, picked it back, placed gently on a mantlepiece...and screamed, what are these blemishes I see?

Tired and confused, forgotten... the thought occurred to me:

No, no more.

I don't want to change the world.