Here they go again,

Over and over and over,

Their smile is genuine,

Their joy contagious.
But it seems in my hatred,

The shell that I made,

That doesn’t let people in,

Has banned emotions too.
Barely existing , I see the world.

I hear it , I smell it,

I touch it.

It is right there , in all its glory.

Yet I am somewhere else.
It seems distant,

As if I am in a bubble of solitude,

Where time passes for no one,

The world slides on its own.

No feelings , no emotions , nothing,

I say , Nothing.
I have ceased to feel the people,

The Nature , the world around me,
But it’s fine.

There is no need to worry.

I am not sad or happy , no.

I am just human.

And there are people like me,

All over this world,

Who have stopped trying,

Trying to fit in a world,

With destructive elements,

Such as jealousy and hatred.
They are not lost but just different.

They are people you call names,

Mad or schizophrenic or daft.

My people , they are good,

Better than most of you.
You know why?

Well , for starters,

We don’t harm each other,

Or the nature all around.

We don’t thieve , loot

Or plunder other strangers,

Or the nature all around.

We don’t deceive other people.

Fake words , promises are not our thing.

We don’t live for others , 

While others live for themselves.

We don’t think that our destiny

Lies with someone no one ever saw.

Yet it is us you call mad.
You ‘feel’ pity or disgust for us.

Yet you all don’t realise,

How lucky us ‘strange’ folks are.

Lies or failures doesn’t move our hearts,

No hurry overtakes our mind,

We don’t strive for satisfaction,

Heartbreaks can’t rock our souls.

We live for the sole purpose,

Of Living.

No complications , No objections.
We are what you call madmen,

Thus , we can do anything.

New or old , valid or not,

Right or different.

Whims of the soul,

We fulfill them all.

Society can’t​ deter us,

Obligations are unheard of.

We don’t live to race.

We walk fast and slow,

Whatever it feels like.
We have no destination,

The journey is enough.
We may write,

Yet not rhyme.
Judge us all you want,

We have no care.
Our beliefs aren’t philosophies ,

Philosophers are ‘normal’.

But do we care? No.
Emotional scares cannot strangle us,

Our necks are free.

For all we know,

The noose might be a swing.
One thing is that we don’t tell anyone.

A secret that you may not like.

That we are all Free,

Which you can never be.
Don’t be sad , or whatever you feel!

Dismiss all you just read,

As a madman’s thoughts.

And go back to your ‘perfect’ life,

And feel whatever you can.

While you can.

Ishan Chauhan