The calming sound of rustling trees is a cliche for restless boredom

There are some days when you don't feel
the same species
as everyone
else.
And maybe it's nothing
really, its nothing
But it's in these awkward silences
that I see God
cause there isn't anyone else
who will look me in the eye
Everybody trying to get a better angle
of the world as a whole
"I'll see something you didn't,
right?"
Whether you care too much
or not at all
is not what defines happiness
In fact I find it to be more of a
barrier
Because on my best and worst days
I am my most insurmountable hindrance
to finding the deeper meaning
And these words.
These words are nothing more than
the swirling dust
on hot days
in dry places
that look like tornadoes when you're 5 years old.
When the only twister you've ever seen
was in The Wizard of Oz.
And now I wonder in my bed at night
If my major problems
are really tornadoes
or merely anomalies of unstable air
The devil
or a dust devil
And, perhaps, life as I now
know it
is not also a facsimile
of a 1930's
Judy Garland musical.