For as long as I can remember, I have always felt so lost;
perhaps it's for the better - is being found worth the cost?
Having to accept that we are of a certain mold,
having to profess to being either meeker or more bold.
In the center - a happy medium - rationalizing soul;
staying inside, craving outside, too many fears to withhold.
Sober thoughts, thoughtful dreams, dream-like moments gone unseen;
who would've thought these thoughts and dreams actually belonged to me?
A smile tells some but it doesn't tell all, and the smile is what they see.
Beneath the upward sloping line, melancholy lies beneath.
Embedded deep with no explanation, perpetually penetrating.
I don't understand this phantom - but his presence is worth venerating.
To have kept his place all this time, deeply rooted to my spirit;
the lonely phantom in me wanders and weeps - sadness deep but I can hear it.
But this same sadness now feels like home,
I know I'm not alone because the phantom never goes,
quiet tears and longing give shape to my throne,
misunderstood isolation is the world that I know.