Detached

Sometimes I feel like I live in a separate world from everyone else. Sometimes I feel by my very nature that I am completely and utterly different than everyone; even my closest friends. I live in a quandary of never quite fitting into groups of people. It is a quandary because I want to feel a sense of belonging, but I also don't. I'm not a group person, I'm a people person. I like interacting one on one. But sometimes, even that makes me feel estranged. As a writer, I have to observe which is just one more set of icing on the cake of my bubble world. With that sentiment in mind, this is a poem I wrote one day while sitting in this quagmire of other-worldliness.

Detached

I live separate from this world.
This world, this life, this time
Is a language foreign to my ear
As others take the wheel to steer.

I stare at people walking by,
Driving by, riding by, biking by,
Busy going places, living lives
While I observe it from outside.

Each one acting their own little play
Through song and dance on their stage.
I sit and watch them all portray
Their hearts from this self-made cage.

I sit and decay in a plastic chair
Wondering who, what, why and where
People go when they stop being fraught
With indecision wrought from a prison of thought.