Untalented (a poem)
I am a deserter, a traitor to Gaia.
A man with the mentality of a young child,
Am scared, yes I am;
Of life, of death, of growing up.
Scared of being called names,
For I was without gifts.
My feet isn’t good for the dance,
My hands too tender for the hustle,
My brains can’t process the books.
For I lacked it,
Yes, I lacked talents.
So, I choose the path of a child.
Always beneath the garment of someone,
I choose to be a sheep,
For I lay in-dependent of another.
I am who I am;
Untalented!