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.