With its clinching cold fingers
Clench your heart as not to move
Like a classic fairy tale bee,
Caught in a fictitious spider’s net.
Isolation,
Is like the suffering under a tyrant,
A blend of monotony and inhibition,
Some sort of separation, hurtful, and,
A barrier that blocks your maturity.
A college classroom,
An ordinary one that is set in a peaceful young ambiance,
Where politics smells and flirtatious comments are flown.
A noisy noon after the lunch, fill with gibbering chitchats,
With frivolous teenage songs and with puppy romances.
Amidst these playful parties, one is disinterested, sits apart
Brooding on shattered dreams, hoping for the timer to ring,
Isolated one, it could be you, she, him or me.
Back to your home,
Gazing outside, through your own that special window,
Right there in your own room, with a melancholy mood.
Speaks yourself, smiles alone, and making fanciful stories.
Find ease in thoughts or in virtual journeys through books,
Sensing soliloquies, making sickly strategies like a maniac.
Sing alone, tease yourself and rethinking your own past,
Isolated one, you, but it could be she, him or me.
The pony-tailed girl,
I know her, I think she too knows, but not a familiar one,
The girl, who has silky sort of hair and white sneakers,
With a pair of vanity specs and appealing attire in style.
A jolly type, not my kind, with plentiful admirers around.
She has not seen me among her beaus, as I am a shy one,
Often, I have to pretend as if I am in some grave thoughts.
Isolated one, I am, but it could be you, she or him.
