Where is me...

A common feature in a man's life
is the herd of "friends"
that are often found flanking him
wherever he goes,
in presence or in mind. 

Just as you never see a cow without a cattle
you never see a man
without the usual rattle.

Where are the spaces,
the empty playgrounds
where you could just sit on the swing
unashamedly staring nowhere?

Where are those lone times
where you could jut cry your eyes out
without a bother of audience?

Where are those empty moments
where you could hear your heart
not the gossips of the latest love couple?

I am tired.
Tired of the everlasting chatter
of the things that don't matter
by the people that don't matter.

I am urging to fly
to be given the space to
spread my wings.

Those empty grounds to run
free as an eagle,
exhilarated as a horse,
majestic as a lion...

Where is the childhood
where friends meant playmates
not my-mind-your-mind soulmates.

Where am I
in this big, wide jungle
of 'civilized' inmates?

Who am I?

Am I the voice in my head
or the voice that is
struggling to come out of my head?

Am I the reason?
Or is the reason me?

Am I the girl I think I am?
Is the voice me?
Or does it belong
to the horde of those around me?

Who am I?
And most importantly,
Where am I...