The wheels roll around me as I look on,

People smile, laugh, kiss, and carry on.

My face turns to stone, my heart becomes black,

I saunter along slowly, never looking back. 

The joy around me pokes and prods,

Unable to distinguish the genuines from the frauds. 

The lovers, the haters, the friends, and the foes—

Leave me exhausted, separate, an empty shell in clothes. 

I look at the sun, see the breeze through the trees,

‘Why is it that, Myself and Others, are so hard to please?’

The villain, the scapegoat, the hero, and the priest, 

All in a power struggle to not be the least. 

We measure, we compare, we step over others,

Living superficially, rather than as sisters or brothers. 

I reach my front door, plop down on the couch, 

It’s a beautiful Saturday, a Saturday grouch.