Commute

First thought on May 1st. It's raining.

Commute

 

It is easy to follow convention

Travel a well worn path

And blend, inconspicuous into the flow

 

But the runt will feel a heavy hand

Upon his growing burden

To live in perpetual disagreement

 

For those who are normal

And float, unperturbed  by flaws

Will essay on through life

 

So the journeyman is bound

Like some casual make-weight

To endure the boredom of the commonplace

 

While gilded souls. Chosen ones

Float on the sumptuous presumption

That life is good

 

I can’t help but spare a thought

For someone, somewhere

In the rain or the heat. Desolate.

Author's Note

Spare a thought for those who are trapped 'in ordinariness' and can't summon the will to escape.