We're all here, all looked down upon. 
The curators, the sleepers,
they say. Wasting their lives away.
The sleepers, the painters,
Vividly creating unthought
wonders. Seeing what cannot be possibly
seen. The writers, the musicians,
saying what most are too afraid to say.
Feeling what most others are too afraid
to feel. Spinning and telling of untold horrors that all feel.
All looked down upon. Wasting talent, they say.
Never fully realizing of the dangers that lurk 
within each one.
All bringing life where there was none before.
Telling of the wonders that surround.
Beautiful things, horrible things. 
Things that are there but not seen.
Spinning beautiful webs of fantasies. 
The dreamers, the sleepers.
The curators the painters,
The writers, the musicians.
All unknowingly giving insight
to the world unseen.