not quite mimicry

so many angles and we cannot tell
just which will show the true and human face
but only that we have a kind of place
where not a fool will want to cry or yell
on knowing that the oceanic swell
has dropped us here and we have lost the race
and been forgotten in the constant chase
by those who think our world a kind of hell
to go or not to go we do not care
when answering the ones who give us pain
to say just when the passion will run out
some message seems to come on empty air
a signal that one day there'll be hard rain
but for right now all that we have is doubt