Sitting against a wall,
crying into my arm.
I don't belong here,
don't think I'll ever
belong here.
All their smiling faces,
all their pats on the back.
It all seems so robotic.
They say they're open-minded,
that they accept others.
But then their mouths start snapping,
and they start preaching what differences there are.
Differences between them and the others.
I can't say us.
Because I don't belong anywhere,
not with them,
not with the others.
I pity the ones they call to stand,
pity them because all their flaws are
strung out and hung on
a delicate string,
hung out to dry for everyone to see.
But they're not flaws to some.
They're not flaws to me.
Because unlike them,
I can accept everyone.
And even though I don't belong,
I can still see the logic in everyone's choices.
I don't belong,
but maybe that's for the best.
Because when I don't belong,
my ideas don't get warped.
*cheers
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