Fragments

Weirdly enough,

I have started imagining again,

Not calculating, not making predictions,

Nor am I creating possible "scenarios",

Somehow, I've let go of the rein,

Weirdly enough,I'm imagining again

Maybe I was getting too restricted,

Not by norms, culture, expectations,

But by my very own rules, and experience,

Experiences which taught me that it was wrong to imagine,

That it only lead to ridicule,and stupid choices,

These experiences were undeniable,

Taken straight from countless rifles,

Aimed at me, as I stifled,

Choosing the life of an outcast,

Waiting,for an emancipating revival,

Wondering,what went wrong,

That all the colours were taken away,

How, why and when did reality hit so hard,

That my vision went blurry, and all grey?

That if reality was just an illusion,

Which was collectively shared,

Why did it have to be so dark,

When it could simply be survival and play,

What I am now, is as naive as it gets,

They say,

Now what is naivety,

And what is the "mature" path,

That you prescribe for me to take?

If I were to define maturity,

It would be about giving, and not just to take and take,

To understand that there are consequences of each of our actions,

To look around, and minimize the pain,

But let me ask you, and this sad and sickly world,

How does it define maturity?

To know how to win a bread?

At the cost of our humanity?

To not dream, to not speak, to not "be"?

Because if I go on to do that,

Will I really be me?

Now go on telling me what's right and wrong,

Go on as you hallucinate your own version of this "reality" song,

Impose your interpretations, and laws that you formed,

Based on fragments of your own experience,

Which have nothing to do with the tune that I play along.