I’m locked in a glasshouse;
There are so many of my kind!
Deportees, refugees…escapists…
Escaping…
Still escaping…

I was uprooted from my haunt
And thrust in here, with others like me
In a superficial setup,
Environed by glass which
Shaped my stance;
I didn’t have much to do.
Didn’t have to adapt
For the ambiance was regulated.
The dissenter in me was curbed
My growth, stunted
Fashioned as per their need.

I couldn’t grow wild, sprawling
In reckless abandonment.
I could scarcely breathe
So eventually, my flowers lost their fragrance;
Yet, managed to look pretty!
I was the freak put up on show
Sized up by dawdling eyes.

In my artificial house,
I could not tell –
If I grew in it,
Or it grew on me
Or maybe,
Still escaping…
I was escaping reality…

19 February 2016

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s