Buddha In Distortion

There is a hurricane underneath,

Though everyone perceives me:

Calmer, braver and wiser of all.

Mostly I seem unaffected,

As my world is too small with limited souls,

And none of them are my conscious choice.

Lesser the crowd stronger the hit,

They dissolve me into particles,

Make me the poorest of poor,

The most useless and helpless being;

The more I seem to be at peace,

The messier the chaos inside,

I am at war knowing it is futile.