He moves about among his fellow students
feeling anonymous
His daily preoccupation being:
What if no one recognizes us?
With red-spiked hair, nose and lip rings,
He adorns his face
Waiting for that eye of recognition
And someone to look agape
Instead, they avoid,
Steering silently around him
In well-ordered rows
Afraid of what his strange,
Extraordinary exterior shows
How is she to know the truth
Of that face showing passionately?
How is he to recognize
That keen intellect glowing so fervently?
With spikes he is a mere bagatelle,
Here where all compete.
In his heart he frets
As he prepares for his most daring feat
Meanwhile he waits brightly attired
To win some invaluable gain
To go as unnoticed as an invisible shadow,
Is the worst form of pain.
Digital version available here.