I sometimes miss having a family,

rather than a disparate group

of people connected by blood.

But loneliness begets loneliness,

and I'm better left alone.

I sometimes wonder what I could offer

to a society I am repelled by,

a distant onlooker who can no longer

be bothered to lift his eyes.

It would be nice to know that I belong

if only for a little while.

It would be nice to see a smile I could be sure

wasn't feigned or that of long-suffering

tolerance, but that's more of my neuroses

than my truth.

I've made an enemy of normality,

and created a paragon of contradiction

as my standard.

I would rather die than live on someone else's

opinion.

But what the heart wants and what the soul needs

are often as conflicted as my mind.

I love, and I hate, and I rage in my anger,

as often inwards as out.

But even the strongest storm loses its pace

if it lasts an age.

Self-awareness is elusive, but I'll hold

this tiger by its tail as long as I can.

I think I'll die the day I let it go.