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.

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