Poems and Stuff

Social?

I have never had many, 

I have never had much,

They say quality over quantity,

That counts a bunch.

However, sometimes,

When your count falls short,

Society calls you an outcast.

You are shut out, "shunned", from the "world"

I have learned to like it like that

And to despise the pitying looks.

I learn that not everyone can be the "Belle of the Ball"

But are instead the "outcasts in a room"

People cast judgment on us,

You know, when we have no partners for things,

Or when we prefer to work alone,

Or when we are shy.

I prefer to work alone.

I prefer to cling to the shadows of a room.

I prefer to know few, and enjoy the ones I do know;

And occasionally, with the few friends I choose

Because they just simply do,

Get you

Although on the other side,

The judgment and looks make you feel alone,

Like an animal in a cage,

Just longing to go home.

Sometimes, when we feel alone, 

We picture our clones

The unrealistic versions we dream to be,

You know, the ones that are socially accepted by society.

For me, 

My clone is smiley, free,

Always prancing through a forest, or climbing a tree,

A book and hand with a caption that says adventure awaits,

The me that is not bound, but free

Always there and the first to help one in need

The one were there is no pressure,

But instead, there is room to breathe

Then I wake to the world,

Where we settle for less,

Due to pressure taking holding,

Stressors demeaning our best.

We ask,

We tolerate,

We do as we are told,

But are we happy?

That is the question to ask,

For when judgment is over 

And "utopia" has sprung,

Will anyone still be content?

Even if we have gotten all we have asked?