Standing.
Alone in sea of faces.
A sea of stories, jokes, and laughter.
A sea of which I was not invited.
I am sinking.

The whole world's an inside joke
of which I am standing
outside looking in
wondering
what it would feel like
to be normal.

They turn on me.
I'm noticed now!
But accepted?
Hoo Hah.
They are not the same thing.

Words peirce like daggers
shattering the fragile skin and bones
of my heart.

And it's all a joke.
In a moment it's over.
But the words hang in my mind.
Like moldy wet clothes.
The world has moved on
left me holding its insults
in the guises of sarcasm and jokes.
And "No offense"s.

Am I always to be the bunt of somebody's joke?
With sharp tipped word-arrows
supposedly dulled by a thin covering
of chocolate coated
"You know we don't really mean it."s

Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will peirce forever