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Acquiescent with Solitude

I am acquiescent with solitude.
I wonder if I will ever fit in.
But I'm not sure I want to, for
I hear the whispers, twisted by knaves,
I see beyond the masks they wear.
I want no part of their games.
I am acquiescent with solitude.

I pretend sometimes that I'm one of them,
I feel like such a fraud.
Just to have a taste, not to be the outcast;
I touch the thin veil, between my world and theirs, and
I worry that perhaps I'll die alone.
We are never going to be the same.
I cry the saltiest tears, under a blanket of stars.
I am acquiescent with solitude.

I understand how the world works,
about conformity and hierarchy.
I say being true to yourself is more important.
I dream of a world which celebrates the unique,
Where individuality reigns supreme,
I try to spread the word, separate the flock,
but for now they want to remain ignorant.
I hope perhaps, they will listen one day.
I am acquiescent with solitude.