Thursday, May 5, 2016

The Other

In a room full of people, I often feel alone.
When a person is sleeping next to me, I am a world away.
When the bus gets full, I get off at the next stop.
It isn't that I don't want to be around people.
I just don't know how.
I always have a nagging feeling.
I am a broken piece.
I am a shard of shattered glass.
I am the other.

There is this nagging feeling inside me.
It makes no sense.
No one told me I was wrong.
No one forced me to the side.
The words are choking me.
I have a knot in my throat.
All the things I would say to you.
If I only spoke your language.
Communicating with swollen fingers.
Seeing the world through blood shot eyes.

No one made me feel this way.
I was born feeling like the other.
No one made me an addict.
I was born feeling unsatisfied.
If only I could feel like a "normal" person.
Spinning in my own mind.
Watching the world pass me by.

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