Outcasts

I sometimes hear of outcasts
Who look on from without,
Remembering when they had friends
And much, much less of doubt --

The painful memories that come
Alone, and in seclusion,
Of all of the connectedness
They lost with their exclusion.

But my life has been different
I'll say it, once again:
I've never been an outcast,
For I was never

In

Leave a Reply