Idiosyncrasy: Typical Peculiars
Walking down the cement path,
I could not help but think:
What makes them so aloof, so ignorant, so idiotic?
But then at once I realized,
Rhetorical; and I laughed.
It's really because they're nothing;
Nothing but good for nothing-
Well, nothings.
Popular, they'd like to think of themselves,
But really a façade.
Popularity, in truth, is a personality,
Which in itself contradicts.
Popularity is conventional,
What others say is right and wrong.
I laugh again.
The world which centers around none but themselves,
Such is true popularity; despicable.
But with that I break my thought,
As a collision knocks me off my feet.
I look up to find one of them cursing, seemingly incoherent at first.
I watch her mouth move without sound,
I slowly stand again.
"Bastard," she seemed to be mouthing,
"Watch where you're going."
A sudden rush seemed to rise within me,
No; fight it down.
So with that I smiled a little and walked away, her curses fainter still;
She's not worth my time.
There is a true person ahead of me, looking back with caring eyes,
Just to see if I'm alright.