I have yet to realize the joy one can find
in purchasing diamond bands,
in communal conformity,
in staring stoically while testifying
false truths to justify one's worth.

I have yet to understand the fear one feels
in leaving the town they once lived in,
in shutting the door to his room of safety,
in saying farewell to his family when his purpose
has not yet been explained nor defined.

I grow old, I grow old.
But, to wear the bottom of my trousers rolled
would be allowing my challenges to encompass me
in painful whirl of red, inhibiting my ability to
accept any challenge with my head straight ahead.

I shall gain my strength in isolation.