The hardest part of getting older:
I don’t wanna, I don’t feel like it!
Followed by:
No one else will do it for you.
Ten years pass and I still feel like
A kid fresh out of college,
A little naive, a little excited,
The world my oyster.
The other hard part of getting older:
Hearing the child within,
Crying with insecurities and doubt,
But realizing you can handle it.
A broken watch counts.
People, like seconds, pass by,
Their cogs misshapen.
Once upon a time all the forks went away,
My confused coworkers searched and looked all day.
Little did they know,
That I was the foe,
A quiet miscreant guilty of horseplay.
In my dreams there are faces of people,
Men and women whom I watch,
As they adventure over landscapes
Beyond reality, hovering on the scope
Of my imagination.
When consciousness returns, they
Disappear.
Who were they, these nighttime
Crusaders—these familiar people
With unfamiliar faces?
They could have been:
The fashionable girl on the platform,
The beleaguered man I bumped into,
An anonymous face among the masses,
Who snuck their way into my mind.
The awkward silence stretches like hours,
Between old friends, new acquaintances,
Locks the jaw tightly,
So no words
May pass
Freely.
False smiles and honeyed words,
Tittering like a flock of birds,
Infect the mind with expectations,
Just beware the confrontations.
What makes you better than me?
Nothing special that I can see.
Privilege isn’t a pedigree,
So spare me your kingly decree.
You don’t know the monster in me—
Scratching at the skin, something ghastly.
Keep prodding and I think you’ll agree,
That you may want to rewrite that policy.
So open your eyes and look at me.
Your world is a broken fallacy—
Me and my kind the painful reality,
That will overthrow a dynasty.
Do not cry to me.
Your imagined slight hangs cold;
Leave it, forgotten.
A Curious Hermit 