We are not all the same. I was just being me.

We are not all the same. I was just being me.

I share no blood with the faces I see,
They are not family, nor are they to me.
In truth, I am nobody’s, drifting along,
A misplaced note in a careless song.
Just a stranger alone in a limitless space,
A universe built with no welcoming place.

They look at my surface and map out my mind,
Predicting the secrets they think they will find.
They box up my motives, assume they know well
The stories I carry, the truths that I tell.
But honestly, no one has ever looked through
The shell of the stranger, to see what is true.

And those who once knew me, who held all the keys,
Have crossed the great ocean and drifted on breeze.
They walked to the edge where the living must part,
And left me behind with a quieted heart.
Now they reside in the kingdom of gray,
In heaven—too far for my voice to astray.

So here I remain, unaligned and untied,
With nowhere to wander and nowhere to hide.
An island of one in a crowd of the known,
Forever detached, and forever alone.