It is easy to follow convention

Travel a well worn path

And blend, inconspicuous into the flow


But the runt will feel a heavy hand

Upon his growing burden

To live in perpetual disagreement


For those who are normal

And float, unperturbed  by flaws

Will essay on through life


So the journeyman is bound

Like some casual make-weight

To endure the boredom of the commonplace


While gilded souls. Chosen ones

Float on the sumptuous presumption

That life is good


I can’t help but spare a thought

For someone, somewhere

In the rain or the heat. Desolate.

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