A Poem For A Foolish Boy

Once there was a Foolish Boy,

Who lived in a world of his own.
He has lived through so much, now he is disobediently living
day by day.

This is the Revolution, he cried out.

He doesn’t see the world the same as you and me.
He dissects the details that society believes in.
Wishing them all luck.

A Rebel, you would say.
A foolish, smart, fascinating degenerate.

A story, You ask.
Plenty. He replies. One for any occasion.
Tainted with the smell of cigarette smoke and beer, he will begin.

He talks as he is a King.
But trust no kings, for Kings put girls in towers
Atticus says.

He Loves Sometimes.
Other times, he just connects
and then continues his journey onward. A wandering, lonely body in search for another.
The boy desires the art of connection and conversation.

But he takes satisfaction in the amusement of leaving it all Behind.

What does the boy really want? What does he really want for this life?

Serene music surrounds the world he lives in
Distracting from the painful silence that is present underneath.
Perpetuating the feeling of solidity in the company of all his Chaos.