Perspective

This is a poem I wrote about not fitting in and being placed in a new environment. But by then end of the poem it changes from something new to a bigger concept.

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1. The Perspective

I walk in, making my footsteps as quiet as possible, not wanting to be noticed.

I look around to see the same faces talking to the same people, nothing has changed.

And neither have I.

I sit there, watching an listening, only to occasionally chime in with high, soft, and quiet tones, that make me seem even more passive.

I hear nothing, it is foreign to me.

Words mixed with names and places that are alien.

I think of what I would say, as if talking to someone from half way around the world.

Here I am, the quiet one sitting in no particular place.

The girl no one has heard of and no one has seen.

I hear of inspirational words of wisdom discussing various values.

These all fall apart as soon as they are attempted to be applied.

The fear of judgment looms over, like a never-ending shadow.

Is there a way to escape this cage of expectations and opinions of others?

Or is it the endless knowledge of not knowing -- what is in their heads, or in their eyes.

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