People Like Me

Ryan

I look at the sky,
The flocks of birds,
And I wonder why,
I’m always at a loss of words.

While everyone travels in herd’s,
I walk alone,
Now some are in thirds,
Living unbeknown.

Invisible, and unknown,
Lost to the world around me,
Discarded like a bone,
As unknown as the indri.

I think we all agree,
That I’m a freak,
A freak times three,
That I’m weak,

My future looks bleak,
In this lonely world,
People like me being meek,
Like a flower unfurled.

Like a ballerina I twirled,
To please everyone around,
Many times I nearly hurled,
But they ran me to the ground.

I am always bound,
To keep to myself,
To not make a sound,
Like an item on its shelf.

A lone wolf by himself,
In a herd of sheep,
Lost in oneself,
Lying by its self in a heap.

With everything to keep,
But nothing to lose,
I fall asleep,
Like I blew a fuse.

I lay down for a snooze,
When I start to drift
My lips the color of a bruise,
I thank my god for one last gift.

Now as I can no longer shift,
I remember that I am no more than a hag,
I pray for this to be swift,
Because I am no more than a fag.