some nights i grow delusional
or is it that everything finally gets real
and i see life for what it exactly is.
one hundred and fifty is the number quoted
of a social circle,
one, and then five, and then between fifteen and forty,
and i have it all currently.
except the one,
there's the five, the family and everything,
but the circles and layers they rotate so much,
i grow dizzy during these dark hours
and think all these frustrated things.
perhaps i am too stupid
or too smart for my own good;
whatever it be,
the tests reveal a score of ten - ten is low, i know it.
i scored 25 per cent.
for the only time in my life,
i knew the concept of meaning
and understood it like inhaling and exhaling,
automated features that had suddenly been
installed within me.
i want to be like you,
perhaps that is why you keep drawing me closer to you
like a moth to a flame.
how could you even see,
the raw me,
all masks and learned behaviours dropped,
wishes to be a little like you.
