A/N: This is a story of a person who had it all when he knew not what way to go, and when he did, he lost himself to the way there.
Tell me your views on it.
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Meet Chubby,
The boy-next-door,
Who lives above one floor,
In his dream house or rocket or cruise or den,
Living like never before at ten.
He claims his mother is queen
Who never let's him go lanky or lean,
Plastering a plate of pancakes every dawn, just for him,
While the hungry bruises of her empty stomach are yet to dim.
Meet Handsome,
A millennial of twenty-four,
Who is something different under every pore,
A boy who's hands are still glued to Xbox,
A teen who thinks nose ring rocks,
A guy with a weird fetish for cheese,
A man who hesitates to say 'thanks' and 'please',
A mind who has lost it's vision with age,
A soul who thinks the world is a cage.
Meet The Nice Uncle,
A family's head at thirty and one,
Who writes stories about dystopia for his son,
And accompanies his pregnant wife
On temple Tuesday's strife,
Who loves his life, at the end of every miserable hour,
Who forgot to fall in love, from near or from far,
Who wishes to fall down on his knees,
But is still shouldering calls from companies.
Meet Mr. Oldy-pants,
Who tells his grandchildren one story,
About fun-filled childhood glory,
About ecstasy of teenage dreams,
About how older youth looses their gleam.
One story- of everything and nothing,
Of really ordinary something,
One story of a journey of found-lost-found-and lost again,
Of cakewalks and plankwalks, ploys and plays, numbness and pain.