Pounding music goes bumpadump
A crowd of girls in bodycons shout
A sea of boys in glittering gear
I stand alone; my companion is fear
Fear of things both great and small
In this crowd, they all seem the former
I fear to be alone, my present state
I fear to be surrounded, yet I also crave
I yearn to know I am not alone
Yet simultaneously, I am afraid that I am not
If my differences are what make me unique,
Someone like me might strike me as tres magnifique
But in the harsh reality be something else
Something that strips away what makes me, me
No longer alone, but not individual, either
YOU ARE READING
Melancholia
Poetry"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility." - William Wordsworth
