The loner observes the rabble.
He simply observes... doesn’t join in.
Contempt fills his mind.
He’s in a glass cage,
looking out.
He analyses; rather than
dances, laughs.
His superiority
shrouds him.
He feels guilty about
this feeling.
He's tried to be at one
with the Other.
He failed and failed
again.
His attempts don’t
quite work.
The Other’s clothes hang loose.
He feels clumsy. Fake.
So he drinks more, and
more;
Buying himself oneness
with the Other.
That still doesn’t
work.
He still doesn’t fit.
No one’s interested.
No one gives a shit.
He has the badge of
difference.
He wears it wherever he
goes.
Without it he's nothing.
It’s the only thing
he’s got.
Why else would people
ignore him?
Not because of his
superiority;
But because of his
inferiority.
Deep down, under the shit
and the booze,
That’s what he too
believes.
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