He is mad, absolutely weird
Among eccentrics he appeared
Refusing to conform
A silent storm
His nose stuck in a book
With that raw, ruffled look
Not dandily strutting about
He is the odd one out
In a crowd of hyenas loud
Aside he stands, serenity endowed
The laymen are going nuts
As they don’t have the guts
With a meek, passionless stutter
“Can’t he be normal?“ They mutter
He is a rare, extraordinary mortal
And the extraordinary can never be normal

© Rosh Von Amber 2015


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