To His Own Drum

Last night, the dream about the boy on the bus, sitting in the front row, listening to his rock 'n' roll music. Beating his head to his own drum. Not caring about the stares from others. Not hearing their whispers. Just being cool... That used to be me.

And today, joining the protest and revolution, riots against the police. I was reluctant. My brother was also reluctant to go. I had to return to my family.

Going my own way is fine. But I'll always have to make sure to return to my family.