A man of polystyrene,
a decorative accessory,
fated, snoozing alarm
is he but not me.
Smiling twisted scotch tape
with a suspended animated gape
a gut feeling dropped, drained
is he but not me.
And he can never grow out of my name,
my job, my wallet, my nod, my state.
What a shame! What a shame!
He darts agony at them,
sips quiet wasteful tears,
sounds as last note of a requiem,
waving ship, he steers, he steers.
And he laughs!
handshakes, jokes, tricks
Alas! he laughs.
He jerks in a fit,
breath of angst.
No humour. No wit.
Still he laughs.
Still they laugh.
Alas!!
lets scratch the walls
of my brains now
as he is asleep under the lullaby of world
shove the earth. damn! plough, plough.
I had buried myself down there few years back.
I have come back for myself now.
Scratch! Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!
The above piece is all about discovering the real self which we have left behind in pursuing something that we think we need to have. This is about the people who realize that they have become a "He" and lost an "I" buried down under a burrow.
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