How can I be an outcast
in a group of people, where
we all have something in common?
Though I managed it.
Standing in the corner,
taking it all in.
The young and the old,
the ones that want to be there,
and the ones that would rather be reading a book in their den.
The ones that look the part
and the ones who make you wonder why?
I stand and observe,
wondering why the staff
are the only ones talking to me?
The lights lower, and I join the group to see the show.
I enjoy the show lonely in the middle row.
Swaying and singing along.
Walking back I wonder,
do I illicit a don’t talk to me vibe?
Do I love
being alone that much,
that other people can sense it?
Drinking in the hotel bar,
the place where lonely people are supposed to meet.
I make eye contact,
advert their gaze.
I smile a shy smile,
relishing in, the fact
that I like to be alone.
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