A Stick Figure

A monotonous buzzing in a dark room
Throughout a sunny day.
It’s a mind tired of life,
It’s a longing for a break.
No, mine is not a vicious existence;
No, it’s not unfair.
I was granted all I ever wanted,
I was blessed with love and care.
And yes, I’m thankful for being so fortunate,
And yes, I’m truly satisfied.
But now, all I desire is some peace:
And exile of silence,
A refuge of blindness,
A journey of sleep.
I want to drift away,
So far into the unconscious,
So deep into an echo
Of humming souls,
And spirits ever so mute.
I want to be a number in this world of figures,
I want to be a stick figure in God’s painting.
So if anybody asked for the cheerful life-lover,
Tell them she’s not available;
She’s lying in the dark room,
Deafened by the monotonous buzzing,
Smiling with a voiceless mouth,
Unconcerned with the sunny day outside.