Raise your glass to the anxious one,
The one
who battles their silence
Aching to
participate in the conversations
But always
keeping their words to themselves.
The one
who dreads every change in the winds,
The one
who never feels complete,
The one
who struggles to express what bothers them,
The one
ready to endure instead of facing the demons ahead.
Raise your
glass to the people-pleaser,
The one
who feels small every time they try to explain what is in their mind,
The one
who is always scared to draw the line,
The one
who always feels unloved if they don’t serve,
The one
who is always drained from the people they love,
The one
who is never valued for what they are.
Raise your
glass to the second best,
The one
who is always there when the main friend is somewhere else,
The replacement
with the good advice,
The one
always happy to help yet often left on read.
The one
who cherish the wrong crowd,
The one
who is deafen when they try to take control,
The one who
is never included when the plan is made.
Raise
your glass to the second-guesser,
The who
always doubt what choice should they take,
The one
who never knows what is to take control,
The one who
troubles with a firm stand,
The one
who fears the consequences,
The one
who is fighting with themselves yet unable to win the match,
The one
willing to watch from the side lines.
Raise
your glass to the fatalist,
The one
who made peace with what is about to come,
The one
whose battles are always lost,
The one unwilling
to take the blame for what when wrong.
The one
who is secretly scared if they take the reins and wind by chance,
The one
who never learnt accountability when not deciding what to do
Is actually
a choice – the worst of them all.
Raise
your class for the mind-racer,
The one
who craves control yet unable to put his mind on a simple task.
The one
whose coping mechanism is the unvoluntary switch of thoughts,
The one
who never felt what stability means,
The one
who survives on short-term ideas often left incomplete.
The one
who is often overwhelmed yet lacks the tools to center their inner monologue.
The one
who has never taught how to process their surroundings,
The one
whose mental clutter rival the absence of the mind.
The one
who always feel the world is always falling behind,
The restless
one who craves to stop at last.
…
Raise
your glass to the many troubled never mentioned in the lines above,
I might
write about you in the future poems.
I want
to tell you - you are not alone, always forgotten, left in the footer note.
I salute
your endurance often unnoticed by the normal ones,
You are
not undeserving – you are simply different, not hard to love.
You have
hidden resilience; your brain is knitted with the darker yarns.
Be proud
of who you are and if the life feels hard in the darkness of the night
Ask for
help, don’t be shy.
Your
efforts always lurk in the shadows - never spoken, never shared.
There is
my second ode for the outlander of the nous,
I feel
your pain; I sense your presence – you and I are so alike in many ways.
