The stampede is on the run
Folks have disappeared
Leaving the muggins have the fun
But I try managing stay off the herd.
The dance of the officious lass
Their games keep going on and on
But it will come out in the wash
When life is ready to take on.
An intended tight slap on the face
The talk of fulfillment of dreams
A reminder of the nasty race
What desperate plight it seems!
For a moment, I freeze at the pettiness
But I’m no squidgy, it’s time to perform
A call to shake off the shyness
And toss up a tormented storm.
What hits me hard is – I have no dream!
For what worth is life with no dreams at all?
In torment something bleeds and screams
And ” Out with it!” – is the moment’s call.