Not Made For Numbers

No, I am not made for numbers,

And I say so after years of trying,

To get accepted in that field,

But my soul knows that I have been lying.

No, I don't understand the numbers,

I don't know the language they speak,

After years of being a 'bad' student I wonder,

If this was ever meant for me.

Yes, it takes me a lot more time,

To solve a numerical than you,

And I am tired of you judging my mind,

For being a different creature than you.

What speaks to my soul are words,

Filled with starry imaginations of mystical worlds,

What speaks to my soul is art,

Those exquisite, sparkling colour runs through my heart,.

What gives life to my mind is heat,

Heat of the passion that I feel,

Those poems and words make me dance,

In a way as if I'll never get a second chance.

Oh

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! it's the only thing that makes me alive,

But I am judged to be an illogical being,

Oh they laugh at my dreams, the "number masters",

It makes me dream of fleeing.

When I write down my heart,

I can see the words talking back to me,

But all I ever do is give a start,

The rest just comes from the mysterious heaven to me.

I see and hear the things they can't,

Like the song of the sea,

The dance of the stars in the night,

Or feel the warmness of a tree,

They can't see the beauty of connections,

The rejoicing of the universe with being,

The tales that wind bring after travelling a thousand miles,

There is so much that they don't feel.

No, I am not made for numbers my dear friend,

They don't speak back to me,

The world of fantasy awaits me over the rainbow,

And that's where you'll find me.