I shall not, today, go to classes
where old men wittily incite the masses
to laugh, with fake spirituality,
at jokes too oft said inappropriately.
I shall not go later to dessert
with those who smile, but often hurt
with backstabbing comments and bad advice,
(thought they’re only guilty of trying to be nice.)
I shall write poetry instead;
allowing sweet muse to clear my head.
As the train’s gentle rhythm rocks me to and fro,
into the joy of my creative mind I shall go.
For it is there, when I’m most dazed and confused,
that I can find my kindest refuge.