Boy sitting alone in the sun contemplating the world,
Wondering what to do next and how to do it.
Wondering where people are going, who they’re meeting,
And most importantly, what they’re thinking!
Wondering why children are murdered…
How does he even begin to try to make sense of things?
Why does everyone else seem to know what’s going on?
Or are they all just blissfully ignorant?
Maybe he should start asking people!
“Excuse me miss, are you happy because you know what it’s all about?
Or are you just stupid?”
Why can’t the boy just get on with the drudgery?
Why does he have to feel that he is special – different?
Surely we all have the same thoughts, how can you not?
Isn’t it all amazing, fascinating, mad, overwhelming, scary…?
100% pure absurdity – I’ve never known anything like it!
A poem written by me about 20 years ago..