We are outsiders.
We are outsiders,
On the periphery,
Watching everyone else,
Pretending we’re like them,
But knowing we’re not.
The best we can hope for is to find a place where we don’t have to pretend.
Is home a place to run to, or a place we run from?
Only to hide out in places we’re more accepted, unconditionally.
Places that feel more like home to us,
because we can finally be who we are.