November 23rd.

I know it may be silly,

the little things I do 

I shake and quake and lose my wake

in your pale and narrow view

And I suppose I should have known

all along what was right

Inside my heart I pondered life

and debated fight or flight;

But soon something came to me

and whispered in my ear:

"Excuse me, my dear, but

you really don't belong here."

I know I don't belong,

Here is not where I should be

and yet I linger on

with the hopes you'll come to save me.