An Outcast

is it me, or is it my inherent personality? humanity has become strange, difficult to understand. i may too have an insecurity of these worldly and tragic complexities i have to withstand. if only one valuable word could be triumphantly said, such a word that would resurrect my soul from the immortal pain then i would feel a sense of victory, and my loss thus paid. whenever the sky roars with fury, i know that something cleansing is to follow...rain. i need to be rehabilitated back to my old ways what was it that forbid me from joining them then? i have done myself a terrible discursive, and now my heart wails. it is still hard to trace, to trace what really led me to the den. i have allowed them to infest their virtues in my territory they have poisoned my behaviour like rust stains steel. but now i know, that i will never be part of them, and it feels like an entry into a cleansed state of mind, at my own free will. and for all this, I AM AN OUTCAST a slave to my inordinary past.