Coming out
Into the world,
After a sure start
With nowhere to go now
Almost choking
At being an adult
Living life,
As it was laid out
By nature and nurture
Unfazed by my own religion
Or the world outside,
Never talked
To the guy upstairs
But living used to be sacred,
Is now all but sacrilege
If it were always
My plan versus his
I never stood a chance
But there's a sense
Of burdened freedom
Along with a sense
Of joyful realism
To be happy
any chance you get,
A fine ventriloquist
He's got his ways
Makes you admire
The work he does,
While pondering
The meaning of life,
The fine line
Between right and wrong,
Trying to get some
sense of control
Thinking of pulling
One up on my destiny
Of saving my soul
Not selling out
To this facade
Of what we call progress
But maybe I should
Just stay a while
And enjoy this blissful anaesthesia,
Monitored by the man himself.

A trip down
The memory lane
Of simpler times
And happier days
Rekindling those vibes
With a few pals of mine,
The old tales of summer
Jumping around,
Even in pain,
Chasing ice cream trucks
On our bikes
For our favourite flavours
The old tales of winter
Trying to look cool,
Cracking lame jokes
Exhaling,
What we used to pretend
Was smoke
This conversation was special
I was out of touch
But not out of time,
For the very first time

having the audacity
to accept the duality
of man, of time, of life
rather a causality
in itself
of things, of people, of emotions
you can finally let go
the loss of innocence
before you even know
not hopelessly muddled anymore
like the grey colour
in the middle of black and white
no more under the pressure
now off to where the air is fresher.

Life could either be
defined by your parents' mistakes
or solely yours,
only here to live and learn
with the hindsight
that you may well be
one of those mistakes too.