I live among the angst of trolls
who choose to live UNDER grassy knolls
where sunshine is a rare commodity
and joy is an unfelt oddity.

Confusion is what paves their path.
They find their solace in frequent wrath.
Exploration of self is an unforeseen quest.
Avoiding their inner self is what they do best.

Being squelched by their own dirt, grass and mud,
like the cows who continually chew their own cud,
the trolls of the world keep their inner wisdom hidden
as if their own growth is something forbidden.

What if the sun could peek through for only a minute
and they could peer into themselves and see the joy in it,
maybe the veil of non-contemplation would be lifted.

And they could understand the joy and the struggle of those
who choose to be insightfully gifted.

For only when you see the equality in your fellow man
can you feel you're one in spirit as you take them by the hand.