I do not know
when my dreams
became your kingdom,
turning a blind eye
as you trimmed my creativity
from torrent to drizzle,
and my wings to fit
your comfort zone.
There seems to be
no middle ground
between your need to control
and my desire for freedom,
so all we have turned into
are two stubborn generals
taking a stand
on opposite hills.
Dressed in resignation
and chained by a sense of duty,
we brace ourselves for
being penned up in a room
full of people wearing
importance and faux smiles
in their chase of acknowledgement
and admiration.
I adore you, you know,
you are so much better at
making the best
of any given situation,
mingling gracefully
while I, ever pensive,
try to get to the bottom
of my aversion for
social gatherings like this.
So I cling to my glass
of whatever is fashionable
at the moment, in the hope
it will drown my non-compliant
notions, and keep my inner rebel
under lock and key.
Wintergreen hedges
(no rotten leaves here, please),
cut precisely into square,
impenetrable walls,
fencing in narrow front yards,
doing no favour to the pricey
whitewashed houses
masquerading as the
epitome of respectability.
Double door garages, witness
to what a man is able to
provide, though red tile roofs have
lost their sheen because
money only goes that far,
multi-paneled windows
keep in the noise of
quarrels which, officially,
never took place.
Unbothered by Saturday’s
car washing and lawn mowing,
freedom beckons not too
far away, in the shape of
a night sky aglow with
the reflection of city lights,
the skyline visible
if you scramble up that hill.
Scepticism paired with incredulity
is my answer, and resistance is
my reaction to most of your
pieces of wisdom that lack
sound judgement, but are nevertheless
foisted upon everyone within your reach.
All those factoids, and stereotypes
you picked up along the way,
absorbing them, making them
your truths without scrutiny,
passing them on unfiltered,
never wondering, never questioning
the source and its validity.
I am so tired of everyone
making up excuses for you,
eager to protect your fragile ego.
You know, change is possible,
the chance to transform yourself
presents itself every second of every day.
You merely are unwilling.
Being not so bad is simply
not the same as being good.
november child 