Sometimes:
The world around you slows down,
But crumbles.
Rubble lays strewn to the side,
Like memories; time gone by.
You see sparks of fury,
Red: flames of rage, quiet,
Insipid hell,
Dashes of bitterness,
Loneliness, Discomfort,
Mixed in a palette of emotions,
Discarded,
Your colours: Rebel.
There comes a time where,
Your roads are no longer yours,
And you find yourself shoved onto a footpath,
With oncoming traffic,
Sirens, honking,
Chaos:
Their protagonist,
The world forgot.
Only,
You aren’t an important character,
Nor a part of anyone’s story.
It’s okay for people to forget you,
You need to forge your own path,
Don’t make people feel sorry.
For no one will,
And you’re not entitled to them,
So get on your way,
Navigate through the traffic, don’t
Crash,
Or spin out.
Turn your GPS on,
And if you need help, or some companionship,
Give people a shout.
Mix your shades of Yellow,
And your hues of Green,
Go create colours the world
Has never before seen.
When everyone leaves you,
And pity is the emotion on your mind,
Take control of your thoughts,
Pause,
Breathe,
And smile.
Because defeat and disappointment,
Are a big fat zero in front of a curve,
That can set your world straight,
As you pick up that rubble,
Build your own city,
Your own story,
The one you deserve.
Tejas Rao 