Left Out


She floats on the periphery

Gazing at the concentric circles, rings of

People buzzing, contented

With each other's familiarity

She wishes she was one of them –

A social butterfly


She doesn't know why her


And hands

And stiff smile

Don't offer as much


As she'd like them to

Why conversations seem to die when

She's the only one left to talk to…

Why the spark fades from their eyes

And their grins lose luster

Even though


They didn't mean to have it that way


She wonders wholeheartedly –

How to grow wings.


I guess that's why she feels

Such kinship

With her favourite library

Where she isn't


To talk to bookshelves and strangers,

Where she can stay grounded

Yet sample iridescent

Flights of fancy

Where having herself as the only passenger

Needn't ever be inadequate


Where solitude doesn't come laced with



A/N: There. Hmm, I promise I'll write a poem that actually rhymes someday… but for now, comments?:P