PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The mad young man wakes from his quiet sleep.
Looks around and realizes how lost he had been.
Thought it was over,
Yet it’s only just beginning.

He is lost amidst the world,
Amid the lights,
The pressure,
The society.

Is he angry?
Is he happy?
Is he a man?
Or a pain in the ass?

He rocks out the door,
And flies onto the street.
The music blasts into his ears,
As he sails down the road.

Is he pissed?
Is he content?
Is he half a man?
Or a total retard?

No one knows.
And the mad young man can't even answer.
He doesn’t care anymore.
Label as you must,
He is alone,
A loner not quite.
But whatever you say,
Nothing will change what he knows.
Hidden the truth for so long,
And as he flies around curves,
He no longer cares.
Life as fickle as his dreams.
He doesn’t care.

Is he running?
Or is he fighting?
Is this protest?
Or is it fear?

Get away from the hell of this town,
Or come closer to it then ever?

He was once a quiet young man.
Who became the funny young man.
And was the mad young man,
However is now falling into the new phase.

Blamed the world for creating him,
Yet something’s changed
A new thought.
A new idea.
Perhaps the reason I’m like this,
The Mad young man,
Is that I’ve done it myself.

The new thought
The new idea
The new beginning.