I am fine most of the time
And honestly that’s true
But when I get myself down
I become inevitably blue.
I become alone in a crowd,
Solitary confinement sent there
By me. Judged by a judge that
Has no degree, that has no experience
In anything other than being human.
Thoughts of hopes that I wished
To attain but like a runaway
Train it bashed on my tracks
And it just led to pain. People say
Pain is how we know we’re alive
But way more wrong than right
Has ever been said because pain
For me simply feels dead.
The runaway train that is the
Thought of you is a paradox.
I like to think of trains, but like
You, a runaway is hard to catch.
© Uwais Coetzee
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Matriculant 2018
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