Hopelessly staggering behind conversation, he walks.
Everyone unknown to his burden.
Dragging a boulder of thoughts, delays his voice.
And when he speaks, everything comes out wrong and twisted, not intended for this conversation.
Or any.
He can't keep up, and everyone knows this.
Feeling monachopsis more than usual, no one wants him here.

Though the surroundings are beautiful, it's time to leave.
He takes his boulder and travels to a pond.
Listening to the ducks, they are more welcoming than anyone.