Maybe It Is Nonsense
My thoughts seek companionship in substance
Substance of the five senses, yes
But mostly of conscience
Isn’t it torture to go on and on, days across
Pasting social norms over truth
Constantly barely pulling order out of chaos
Can we be serious and real
Or is it just me, or circumstance
To want to not try to feel
Fake
I witness so many shallow laughs
Thinking, save your breath, what’s so funny
Your miraculous brain isn’t such a dummy
I struggle to gasp
When the situation calls for it
but really I’m stronger and would need more of a rasp
Don’t want to seem numbed and awkward
But lately thinking it’s okay, even Zen
To not have to be another clucking hen,
trying for the “don’t ruffle my feathers” award
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