One much given
to introspective self absorption,
little inclined to action,
I record this plaintive piece.....
The years go by and, though I age,
I am still the lone, unwanted one.
Early it was I learned
to embrace pain, or to avoid it.....
never to invite, through any expectation,
always penning solitary lines,
mere mental meanderings.....
My drab world,
all dry sand and clouded sun,
was a nearly vacant, arid desert.
All my laurels for achievements
I, and others, immediately devalued.
Nothing I did could
be worthy of a lauding.....
no good could come from
an unwanted one,
one outside the pale.....
not from such a joyless one.
The years go by, and still,
I am I.....
the lone, unwanted one.