The Idealist

I was always sober whilst everyone was drunk,
my mother told me,
when I was very,
very young,
that my destiny was to involve cognizance,

They were always sleeping,
while I was keeping track,
with a red pen,
in this ledger of mine,

My mother told me I was gifted,
that I had the spirit,
the righteousness in my innards,
that I was a flashlight

She told me I was a prodigy,
but what good was a prodigy without a peer group,

I was full of friendship,
and short on friends,

filled to the brim with ideas for the taking,
but empty of takers,

All I needed was a microphone,
so they could tell me I was shorter than the podium