Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2012
Laugh at me now.
Question my sanity.
Look down upon me
In pity.
Tell me what you want to hear
What you want to see.
Tell me why it matters.
Prove to me
Why you don't understand.

You're scared.
Having an idealist around worries you.
It bother you that I chose
A path dissimilar to yours.
Uncommon. Unconventional. Unique.
Mine

You fear my success.
Not for my sake.
You know I'll be alright
Deep down.
But for your sake.
You want another follower
To "lead"
Another soft shell to fill
With more of you.
To mold
Minionize
Hypnotize.
I happened to be too solid.
You never expected me to be.
Smarter
In a practical sense.
Your PhD could have
Pulled humble deeds from your heart
But it placed upon you heavy doubt
Of who you are without that title.

I heard you regretted it all.
That you're not happy.
The salary is nice
But it's empty pay.
I had my eyes set on a different picture.
One of fulfillment.
One of pleasure.
Enjoyment.
Pride
In my ability
Not in my degree.

And that
To some degree
Is worth everything to me.
Ron Peacock Jr
Written by
Ron Peacock Jr
890
   Ayaba Babe
Please log in to view and add comments on poems