If society is like a jigsaw,
And I am supposed to fit it,
I wonder if I am the weird one,
Put it in the wrong box.

Should I care about cutting my edges,
Or smoothing them out,
Just to be normal enough,
To not be the odd one out.

I don’t sing the same song as you,
Don’t think the same thoughts as you,
Like a continuum, I flow
In between
Not at the end of either of the extremes.

There’s an interesting phenomenon I notice,
A misfit is either intriguing or stupid,
World keeps loving and hating,
But without ever understanding.

So where does a misfit go?
Will a misfit ever feel belonged?
A part of world which feels so home,
Where the misfit doesn’t have to feel alone.

.    .    .