Became

Keeping piles of gloom

In a store room

I noodle around

What have become of Me!

Those,

Who never went out,

never played

never left.

Are free as white.

I, now-

fit in no room

and lament that always have to rely on my move.

They serenade me

and into the Next I dissipate away

leaving just the phone number

with no display.

Some bid goodbyes 

Some clean forests for me.

Taking it all I come back home

To tell them-

All this have become of Me!