And this he thought long but no lesser said,
An urge to conform yet instil other
Forms ye take if less that be had it so,
At once he would ponder no less than so,
What ought be done but crawl beneath the crowd
Yet stoop to find if else less he ought find,
Beguile himself a way to kindred hope to lose,
Sought himself a style his life in content shade,
Alas could not for fear he ought be judged in shame,
Could not esteem himself to bigger hopes and dreams,
Nor would dare to wear, speak and act real himself,
His friend took note and began a therapy like this:
If all the world were one and the same to live,
Then so shall that second we ought none to live,
For none never lived for they feared the eccentric,
In last breath drew were those in utter spent too few,
Thus, dearest, I shall find the scope ye kindred take,
Seek those people who as ye are but what hopes ye be,
Add to their progress than attempt some at those none,
Though the road to happiness is long and turned,
More like the critics master reviews as pinches of salt;
For one pinch a heart could break, another a tear to fall,
Though fussed and drawn through years and months and days
Shall imbue you the man I know of today whether male or not,
Is but who you are and so shall you stay,
Remains the life ahead for honour you bade.
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