That Coward In the Wrong Era

A mind that asks many questions
A mind mind that realizes there will never be any answers
A pair of eyes that cry in the wrong direction
A red heart longing for affection

I know the truth
And I want my heart to stop beating
For love in another means nothing if your own is slowly depleting

I’ve hated my life and the people who had to be in it
The horrible ones
And my useless mind and it’s emotions

No I’ve done my meditation
And like a band aid it covers over the wound temporarily
And I’ve been in counselling
And few understand I’m rare you see

And don’t give me lies
In my city I am alone
A person of colour
Who loves the opposites inside my home

I’m the needle in a haystack
And local social pressure definitely see fit
To force feed the fear of being so obviously different

And I’m not speaking race
No far from it
I mean my eclectic taste
And choice of words so complex it makes others vomit

I don’t belong here. Not in this year of 2012. And a fool I am having to tell my parents the truth. Looking at me with a feeling of an aloof. They say just get over it. I wish they had these haunting memories, the memories so strong they bring out a rage in me. Not against others only the ones who causes. I’d wish them ill, but I’d be the same as those dogs. No my parents don’t understand. In there time which was better they were on the up and up in there school. My father a slick talker, and my mother silent but actually smart. They had nothing but fun in their time, and now they think they know the times. They say a child doesn’t know anything. But personally I’d fear a child who doesn’t. A child should not know more than there parents. And that phrase brought me fear. If they aren’t supposed to be smarter than the last gen, then why the hell are they here? No my parents know nothing but their own. And I know nothing more than an urge to go ‘home’. Don’t give me everything is temporary and end and a beginning. I knew that as a young child and saw no real reason to be here living. Everything is non permanent, but life for those who struggle takes too damn long. I’m an eccentric type a one who wants to now die plowing a field. There’s no point in corporate settings, the money is “temporary” to the stress you’ll yield. And life is about luck to those who have a real purpose. And when it’s struck you’ll know and you’re smile will continue to glow. And if you hit the bottom more likely you’ll get up. But what about the ones who want to live simple but find no such luck? Instead of flashy clothes, we dorn a solid pair of shoes and comfortable clothes. Instead of racing in a gasoline guillotine we walk and use our muscles along a dusty road. Instead of vegging to a tv we crave the entertainment of nature. Instead of texting, for one day we’d like to sit and visit and talk.

I don’t belong here with my strange wants and minimal needs. I crave love and a simple life, not one that asks me to be on my knees. And if you met me I’d give you respect, something genuine and when you leave you’ll feel it. But for now I need to hide. Surrounded by classical music, slow jazz, blues and bosa nova. Maybe I’ll sleep and start the same day all over.