The Fugitive

Four walls and a dim lamp,
Scary thoughts and a future so damp.
Problems to solve,With little resolve,
So much to act,
Yet, he chose to retract.

Coward, they screamed
For escapists were never redeemed
Loneliness, a companion
Pressure to act, hardly a battalion
So much to achieve,
Yet, he chose to grieve.

Success all around,
Smiling faces mocking his ground.
Faking joy and a friendly pat,
Complaining through every chat.
So much room for zealous,
Yet, he chose to be jealous.

Stupid, he thought
Escaping, hardly a battle fought
Troubles may for a while astray
But will never really go away.
So much to change
Yet, he put it off for another age.

Fleeing to buy some time
Hiding his fear like a mime
Delaying choices, forgoing results,
Avoiding dilemma and possible insults.
So much of a life to reshape,
Yet he continues to escape.

- Subhashini (Mar ‘09)