Strayed Sheep
Reigning in cluster the edge of steep scarp,
the flock of mine sprawls so very proud.
I’m a meek loner in the midst of them all,
for each one is happy to be in the crowd.
As I’m secluded in a ditch of sequestration,
the kinship camaraderie they show with flair.
For my innate nature I’m often jeered,
since their line of subservience I don’t tow.
In their group I’m the strayed one,
my own person, I’m the odd one.
I’m branded as an aberrant madcap,
for in my candid way I’m like none of them.
Life for me isn’t shaped for fitting in,
it’s about standing outside the heap.
In my clan a black sheep I’ve been,
making the deviant otherness unique.
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