The Outcast
They surround me on all sides, circling like a pack of wolves.
 “Different,” they hiss.
 “Weird.”
 “Strange.”
 “Freak.”
 “Outcast.”
 When they realize I won’t cry, they leave.
 As the last turns to go I begin to laugh, shaking my head.
 I almost feel sorry for them, because they’ll never get it: that’s the point.