In palace corridors the music glides throughout minds And finds itself welcomed and ignored at the same time. It drifts in and out like the smiles on the faces, Which say they are happy, but there are also traces, Of nervousness; some emotionless. The never ending search for acceptance.
Wishing to fit in, but never able to attain a place, For you are born below and below you will always remain; But still you try to become more, As you walk the beautiful palace corridors.
Never fitting in, trying to not stand out, When all you are made to do is stand around. Never making your way into, So always ending up without.