The pleasant cacophony
Of mirthful feasting
Surround and invade my soul.
In the midst of the crowd
I stand
And yet alone.
Always has it been.
Ever it will be.
It longs for belonging,
For acceptance, for connection,
My soul.
But when every attempt
At conversation falls into
Short and stilted phrase,
When every try to be friendly
Is met with cold shoulders and icy glares,
I'm left to quietly sip at some iced beverage.
And it is harshly reaffirmed:
I know I will never find what I'm looking for.
And there is no consolation in that.
Just an unrest, a disquiet,
That slips through every fiber of my heart,
And without another's notice,
I slip away
Back to the dark confines of the solitude
I have come to call home.