Circle

Circle

No point in weeping because I am no good
At many things, so I've been told
But mainly no good at other people
And so have become Mistress of my own
Loneliness

No point in longing for hands
That once caressed me
Perhaps even loved me
I banished them
And no-one can touch me

Distanced from those who run the rat race
Or the watchers
I don't care which you are
I am not like you
I prefer to stay on the outside
At the back of the queue

Too bad, that sometimes my soul, in anguish
So it seems
Breaks free from my own body to escape me
Dislikes me for my self-imposed isolation
Trapped in that invisible circle surrounding me
That none can step into
and I cannot step out of.