Thursday, February 4, 2021

Everybody cannot be wrong


When I was young,
I'd be horrified if I
couldn’t fit in, if I
wouldn’t gel with
my peers.

A group, a team,
a gang of untrained
bullies, important,
to be humored
all the time; it was
a game I wasn’t ever
good at.

I slowly became
a loner, then a loser.

As days went by,
my capabilities were
tarnished, I was defamed
by every single friend;
they were all speaking
the same language,
selling the single story
about me.

It was tragic, not any less
than being violated
in public.

As a child, I recall,
I’d go into depression
if my perfumed eraser
was snatched away from
my school bag. Now, it is
laughable, no longer
relevant.

Everybody was
a scary machine in all
my working days;
much later, I realized,
it was nobody.

Everybody was
as needy as I was,
like them, I also had
a family to feed.

Thrown out in the open,
none heard my voice,
my version, no ombudsmen,
my savings burnt my fingers
because my unaccommodated
disability, lack of people
skill made me a prey,
an interesting kill.

Right or wrong,
old or young,
loner, loser, or lover,
now I know that
everybody matters
as little as nobody. 

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