Lobsters in the Window W. D. Snodgrass

First, you think they are dead. Then you are almost sure One is beginning to stir. Out of the crushed ice, slow As the havds of a schoolroom clock, He lifts his one great claw And holds it over his head; Now, he is trying to wald. But like a run-down toy; Like the backward crabs we boys Splashed after in the creek, Trapped in jars or a net, And then took home to keep. Overgrown, retarded, weak, He is fumbling yet From the deep chill of his sleep As if, in a glacial thaw, Some ancient thing might wake Sore and cold and stiff Struggling to raise one claw Like a defiant fist; Yet wavering, as if Starting to swell and ache With that thick peg in the wrist. I should wave back, I guess. But still in his permanent clench He's fallen back with the mass Heaped in their common trench Who stir, but do not look out Through the rainstreaming glass. Hear what the newboys shout, Or see the raincoats pass.

I understand what the poem is talking about.  One person tries--out of the entire crowd of indistinguishable faces--to do something different.  Something to make him or herself standout.  He or she does what he or she can do to break free of the populace! but they seem to overwhelm our friend the "individualist lobster".  Pretty soon she or he gives up.      I do what I can to "be my own person".  Sometimes I seem to wear myself out trying unnecessarily hard.      Sometimes I keep quiet--do not voice my opinion--because I am too tired to argue with (or explain my reason to) a person who I know sees it differently.  Just like the lobster, I am just too tired to try.  However, don't we all as humans feel this way at some point?  Even if it is not all the time, we sometimes are just too tired to fight with the masses?

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