Sometimes living feels like
singing but too loud,
talking but indecipherable,
dancing with chains round the ankles
of two left feet;
caring but too much,
waiting too long,
leaving too soon,
never enough,
ever too much;
the loner:
a welcome presence in a crowd,
simultaneously languishing in singularity;
an unwilling oddity,
surrounded by normal,
good people;
I am engulfed
in their beautiful sanity.
The extraterrestrials landed long ago.
I am one of them.
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Caedar Writing & Artwork 