For that was taught in school and I’m a grown up now.
Running by the clock, ticking with its hands
Looking at the hour glass, the falling of sands.
I flip it around to save another hour
This life seems rather little sour.
Running around, dancing onto someone’s song
Wondering when and what went wrong.
Thoughts and ideas just remain in mind
What’s on paper is perhaps unkind.
Trying to explore, travel a new place
Looking for a room, a little mind space.
To disentangle the entangled thoughts of myself
To let the knowledge elf out from one of the shelf.
To be who I am, to do what I want
They say it’s an excuse but I am an infant.
I don’t deny, they have reasons to complain
But this is who I am, perhaps insane.
I can’t agree to be someone else and gain affection
They might not know it, but that’s called appropriation.