Growing bit bit...

I wander without fright,
Growing bit bit like stalagmite.

But from the sane world people come,
Beating their mouthful drum.

And me they try to stow,
With their silly innuendo.

I don't move their way an inch,
Coz itz not a dream; that I'll wake by a pinch.

They finally move n let me go,
Wander without a tormented brow.

Lust carries me, sometimes it is pain.
At times it is a purpose, at others - vain.

We are tired, say legs to brain,
Shut Up you two - I know you will sustain.

And I keep growing bit bit,
Like a stalagmite,
Unaware of the chaos,
On rendezvous with stalactite.