Ruai Romances

 

I live in this small town,

A bright sordid picture,

With a bit of metropolis,

And a huge peasant base,

Being young, sad, and quiet,

I’m in the last of the two,

An egotistic bastard,

In a proletarian populace,

 

It’s dark, grimy, hard,

In a heartwarming way,

To be so far from apex,

World approved social zenith,

Often times I go hungry,

Chasing Kafkaesque dreams,

Among sexually-starved housewives,

And these ‘socialite’ girls,

Not a talker or charmer,

All I do is observe,

Hearing tales from my neighbors,

Or kids that drive me insane,

 

I resort so to music,

Rock and roll, writing rhymes,

Seeing myself in a podium,

Plucked from Ruai Romances,

When I’m sad as I’m often,

I escape to some quarry,

An abandoned sweet expanse,

Where I write all my tales,

Though it’s busting like bubbles,

Full of all peasant gaiety,

Hunky lads, cutesy girls,

Living life in the fullest,

Still I sit starved and patched,

Looking on from my cage,

Stifling all melodrama,

For a calm solid face,

To impress on the world,

 That I’m fine and okay,

When in truth all I see,

In my sick twisted dreams,

Is a day when I’ll wake,

In a far distant land,

When I’ll know that by God,

I was free, free at last,

From the sadness I feel,

In my Ruai Romances