I can't stand this nonsense, this indifference
this moat around the edge of my sight. My life.
I can't stand this overindulgence,
this unfettered decadence,
while the rest of the world isn't even given the privilege of weeping.
I can't sleep - my dreams too a world without dreams.
An unfiltered montage of my insecurities playing out the reality I feel behind the forced optimism. The fanaticism,
for the smoothly ironed pressed.
I call out my own name -
behind the darkened and forgotten windowpane,
is the version of myself, angry, lonely and free.
Free of the freedoms that suffocate me.
Apparently I'm free to choose my fate,
my desk, my jacket, my dinner plate.
Yet where is the queue for self-expression?
For social justice? For unadulterated streams?
I am waiting, and getting rather impatient
with this facade
that we call 'the way it is.'
Is this why
my eyes cry
and my heart
is set aflame?
Is this the reason
behind aching muscles
and weary joints?
Is this the cause
of my trembling digits
and crumbling esteem?
Or is it
just mere overthinking
and a sorry case
The past is never too far behind:
We can never live it down
According to Doctor B . Ford
It’s haunting, it’s inerasable:
For the victims to relived
those terrible nightmare:
in hopes that it they will go away
Somehow it never does
The worst is to see your attackers
Smiling, and moving on to higher ranks
Youth was wasted on the young,
Privilege children: overindulgence few
Not so wealth, not so wise
Today their party until dawn
In the future they wouldn’t remember
An old folks saying
What sweeten the goat mouth?
Would burn its tail end
The higher the monkey climbs
His tail becomes visible:
As you move up the ladder,
Your party buddies will grudge you
Your past will haunts you
Your hidden secret will be found:
Youth is wasted on the young,
— The End —