Far away from the hustle bustle
Distant from any needless tussle
I live in a world of my own
Reaping what I have so lovingly sown!
Running a race that never ends
Following all the petty trends
They ask me to participate
I apologize and bar my gate
They ridicule me and start a debate
Hoping that I will take the bait
Wanting me to hop on that train
And let my struggle go down the drain!
They are all too ‘real’ for my taste
And they move around with ‘ideal’ haste
While I sit back and contemplate
My soon-to-be sorry fate!
In a dream, it truly unfurled
My fear of their practical world
And without the weapons of my choice
Mine was such a lonely voice!
I will eventually have to face
A test that I can’t ever ace
Running around; in search of a place
Where I could rest my laughable case!
I have raised in my isolation
Demons of my own creation
The very thought of earning my bread
Fills me up with a regrettable dread!
I may have justified the jeers
Of the ones known as my peers
Choosing solitude may have been wrong
Now I’ll be helpless as they sound the gong!
Lagging behind in ‘their’ practical field
With the shallow skills that I wield
As I’ll try to confront my bane
I’ll need something from going insane!
So after every uncertain fuddle
Tired after a day-long struggle
I’ll still lie down and lovingly cuddle
My perfect little ideal bubble!
Published in Young Nation on August 6, 2016 issue