Eccentrics Poem by Phil Soar

Eccentric people line the route since time began
And usually the way they live, is not yet planned
Living in their bubble, making nothing of their world
Yet driving for perfection, as their nonsense is unfurled

Walking through the walls of crazy thoughts and dreams
Making nothing from the daily grind of crazy hopes
Talking in some random language no-one knows
And jumping through their dodgy minds like antelopes

The nauseating cause of all their eccentricities
Would bring a lesser being to their weak and wobbly knees
And yet on some occasion they will have a grand idea
And formulate a plan to suggest why they were put here