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what was his and what wasn't, he knew but less, in commotion he walked as the bystanders looked at his ironic state, from a fun loving guy he had stranded on a life path to be a man who was so unknown, fatigue stricken; then the young man walked up in his style once again and forgot what his real state was. he had thought of himself, if he were but a pretence, but no; he was only being polite to the world that was otherwise eating up on others hard work. yes, the so called smart world, took away that one person's hard earned bread by sitting and being a parasite. he knew, he had his fight not with them, not with that system but all in all, with that sense of winning, which took away from people their values and realness. so, was he one; wearing a mask, to not let them enjoy his fall. little had he himself thought that in showing his disregard to their ways, he had become a part of them. but he couldn't cleanse his hands of that place, because he was one of them.

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