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Big Heads

The big-headed heard of small children
Tramples past me
Echoing shouts and threats and pleadings
For the small world enders that they see
And that I wish I could recapture
Just to judge if I have grown at all inside
Since the little shocks and horrors of a new world
Tripped over my untied shoelaces
And my unkempt, unpopular, unhappy, unabashed
Misanthropy of a childhood
Divided me slowly from the averages
The means
The medians
And the small comforts
That might have come from fitting in
The terrors and pleasures of children
Each a random sampling of their parent’s failures
Cobbled together and mostly functional
Mostly ready
I am the kid at the back of the line
Happy that no one can push ahead of me now
Happy to look at their backs and be alone
With the thoughts that sound clever in my head
Until the moment they leave my lips
And I realize that my audience
Wants me to fail
Expects me to fail
And gets pissed off
When I succeed despite them
So long herd
Get back to class
Go back to being lied to
And pounded on
And told how happy you should be
Good luck kids
It was great seeing you