Voyages of My Mind

2. Loser's Bench

I had always wondered
why did we called it
the Loser's Bench
that plank of wood
under the shade
of towering trees
and in the middle
of a sea of faces.

Maybe because
nobody sits there
other than us
and our weary thoughts about deadlines
or because we are indeed
losers
no packs to belong to
but ourselves
and our curses for the world
or maybe because
there we find it easy
to let loose
something that is us
and not masquerade-inspired faces
so that we may laugh
about our crazy ideas.

Or maybe because
we had never seen before
such a small space
hold a very big world
of deviance,
of laughter
and parodies
of hopes and insights
we dared 
and of partaking
from a bond
that only us can understand.

This bench is our orbit;
a galaxy of stories
kept in our hearts
of twilight confessions
and of nights
that we only want to dance.

In here we lose ourselves
over and over again
not sure if we can bring back
something after
its metamorphosis.

That is why I had always wondered
why did we called it
the Loser's Bench
that plank of wood
under the shade of towering trees
in the middle of  a sea of faces
that for a bench
to be named that way
there must be 
a conspiracy
that only us can see.