Conformity

I curse him for being a cog in the wheel,
And he laughs at me. “Of course, I am,
And my being so brings me the sense
Of belonging, which, you, dear boy,
Never have had.” He's right. I've never
Gone to church. I do not dress in genre
Fashions, do not swear allegiance to
A flag, a product, anything. He's kept
His friends and allies all his life, lives
Near his boyhood home, and feels both
Calm and satisfaction. I live far from
Where I grew, and drift within a sea
Of strangers with whom I cannot be
Friends. The friends I've had also were
Malcontents, and restless, always moving.
None has remained close to me. I smile.
“You've done well as a cog.” He nods,
And then he leaves.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 40 times
Written on 2020-02-22 at 14:44

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