"Something is scratching it's way out,
something you want to forget about"
-Little House, The Fray
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bare feet against cold ground
running away from fears;
fears of rejection,
outcast of the pack, they say
so much you believe them
lost and alone
so far from home
was it ever really home?
or was it a prison-
an asylum for hungry souls?
are you really alone?
no,
the wind swirls around you
protects you from harm
a sweet serenade
to a lost soul
to a dying heart
they don't know you
not like I do
outcast of the pack, they say
No
you reply
I am not an outcast
I am my own pack
I am my own soul
I am not like you
I am not like any of them
or are you?
are we all hungry and lost souls?
outcasts of our own packs?
are we all animals?
aren't we all animals?
