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