Monachopis

A poem dedicated to a common feeling we all know but can't explain, monachopis.

In a world where I don’t belong,

With the feeling of always being wrong,

I know you understand,

Not knowing where to put your hand

And not knowing what to do,

It’s like standing in a queue,

Waiting your turn to finally be free,

Waiting for that moment of pure glee,

Ever so subtle, yet so strong,

How could I ever been so wrong,

It’s like an ambient roar,

Just waiting for the door,

It’ll be here soon, I say to myself

Just like the individuals who found themselves,

Looking at the people around me

I hope that I can guarantee

That one second of bliss,

And I can finally be dismissed.