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Days of highs and lows,

I dream of being "normal"

Of taking each day, each moment, in stride.

Slow the spinning,

Rapid turning of the gears,

Wanting of peaceful rest,

Standing out and standing apart,

Never really fitting in,

I long for my own tribe,

A place to belong.

Where my weirdness is quirky,

Instead of strange.

Where my voice can be heard,

In place of a frozen scream,

Stiff and unmoving.

In step once removed,

Always behind,

Never apart.

This tribe of one waits.

Longs and waits,

For her kinfolk to come home.

Where all belong,

All are loved.

Home.

Hugs,