Baratta.net Stories

I

Alone, yet with a group of friends.
Do they really know just how I am?
Bicycle tires can sit and spin
And I am alone, yet with friends.
I want to reach out and make contact
Mentally they turn their collective back.

When I withdraw, there yet mute
Wishing to speak, but not
It's like sitting in a gaggle of geese
They accept your presence
But their language is foreign to speak.

If I do, speak up that is
The conversation spins away
As if I had nothing to say.
Are these "friends" really just that?
Or just cardboard, dry and flat?

The worse thing in the world
Is to be alone, yet in a group.
There, but not part of the troupe.
An extra cog, a fifth wheel
I've been dealt a real bum deal.

I could sit down and watch them walk away.
They'd never notice me gone,
I've got nothing to say.

II

The sun grows cold, as a cloud passes by,
Saying everything's not sunny and dry.
There'll be times for cold and rain.

As they pass by just like that cloud,
I'll look to farther horizons
To get my joy and lost strength.
Cause I know that better times lie ahead,
So let the sickly thoughts leave my head.

III

Just by sitting here and writing down,
My mind relaxes, smiles from frowns.
I know I do have friends
Be they far or be they near.
And when I talk, they do hear.

Life is full for lonely bouts,
Just sit down and think them out.
About the times, the one's so good
And what the future holds, or could.

Some say, "darkest before dawn"
Or "light at the end of the tunnel"
I would rather think of it as the sun
When obscured by a cloud.
It is still light out, yet cold and gray
Showing what there was (light)
And always will be, (light)

Even though obstacles block
They never really stay
Or block out everything
Cause it is still the same day.

IV

So, I'll stand here alone yet surrounded
And I'll think about the times I've help
Each and every one of them.
I'll hold no grudge, bar no door,
Or hold the IOU like a sword.
I accept them as there are,
No holds barred.
All I ask is the same for me,
When I act bizarre.

You "get angry", I'm "throwing a fit."
You're "being funny", I'm "being a twit."
Who is being the judge for all this?
They sure don't like my act one bit.

Am I wrong to feel this persecution?
Or are they really out to break me?
I question myself and wonder;
What am I doing wrong?
(dramatic pause, cue thunder.)

V

"Be yourself," a voice booms out
"Accept yourself as you are,
Don't change yourself to please others.
You'll send your life constantly changing,
Shifting, shaping and rearranging.
There are better thing to do.
Be yourself, just be you."

I sat and pondered the words that had been spoken,
Found the truth, whole and unbroken.
People come and people go,
And I'd spend my life to suit them so.

I maybe alone, within this group,
But I have peace of mind to know it.
Let them talk about lawn or fur.
In my mind I've have worlds to conquer.