They draw a graph, I barely make the edge;
They form a group, and I don’t qualify —
I’m so remote, it seems quite like a ledge,
For there’s no other word they can apply

To speak of one, who doesn’t fit at all:
With them, or “anti-them” or anywhere —
Precarious, and just about to fall,
And curious – that I should be out there.

Why don’t I join their consequential cause?
Haven’t I heard that they are faultless right?
To not belong – that really gives one pause –
There can be no one left who doesn’t fight —

except: the one who sees a world bereft:
in war, it’s not who’s right, but just who’s left

[Based on a quote from Bertrand Russell – Owen]