Non-contemporary

I was to be born a millennium 

                   hence or forth

As I am no fit to contemporary

Forcibly sometimes unknowingly hath 

              I tried to blend in,

Yet the end see me coagulated

Like a phantom in halo, I disappears

                 With despairs

Withering and fading follows, even

The prettiest of moments seem

Unworthy of recollection.

Bathed in color deeply, yet I

Leave the extravaganza untainted, abstemiously.

Permanent nature of things hath

Revealed there temporary true self,

As

None of these self-proclaimed, ever

 veiled me.

I feel surrounded by fools, or

It may be just me

For 

I was to be born millennium 

    Hence or forth

As I am no fit to contemporary