Kamal Ghorui
I walked so far, my feet feel sore,
like the road just won’t stop anymore.
The sun that used to feel so nice
now burns my skin, not warm, just harsh.
Faces I knew don’t feel the same,
their smiles look different, like a game.
This body… it used to feel like me,
now it’s someone else to another decree.
My head was once bursting with thoughts,
wild ideas, connecting dots.
Now it’s loud in a quieter way,
full of doubts that choose to stay.
What am I even looking for?
Where do I fit, what’s all this for?
Not really a kid, not fully grown;
somewhere in between, on my own.
Everything’s changing way too fast,
like I’m hold on to something that won’t last.
My mind is slow, my body’s quick,
like they’re playing some confusing trick.
People say, “Just read, just learn,”
but answers aren’t that easy to earn.
Can books or talks explain this mess,
or tell me who am I meant to be, I guess?
I know I’m “me”; I know I’m real,
even if my emotions feel like an ordeal.
No one else hears what’s in my head,
still I follow others and march ahead.
I try to blend, I try to stay small,
just so I don’t stand out at all.
But somewhere deep, I start to ask:
Am I too much?
Or am I enough?
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