You never did seem to fit in anywhere,
Did you?
A loner among the alone,
a broken song of isolation,
the cry of the walking wounded.

You found solace in your writing,
Didn't you?
Withstanding the torrent of judgement,
and the belittling of criticism.

You only wanted to be heard,
to speak,
to have a voice.

But the words didn't come so easily,
Did they?
You wish you could stay in this place
forever,
writing the never-ending tale.