Afraid of ridicule,
Taught not to stand out;
Silenced when different from the rest.
We conceal our souls with a petty mask.
But you deny being a part of this mad game.
Well, let me show you
How we are all victims.
Where is the spirited little child?
That got muddy in the rain,
Chased butterflies, bathed in streams
And didn’t care about what the world said?
Or, where is that rebellious teenager?
Who wanted to make a difference
And swore that she wouldn’t rest
Until she changed the world?
Where is the adult?
That wanted to wanderlust
And let her spirit run naked
On paper and ink.
You look at me, puzzled.
Trying hard to speak
From underneath that heavy mask.
And I simply say:
Take it off, darling
Because this unreal world needs some real people.