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The laughter and voices, Floating across the distance, To a lone figure, Dwelling on his grievance. He sits there and watches, Alone in his silence and solitude, A few stray glances pass over him, But he is only one face out of the multitude. Then he turns away, Entering his mind as a dragon would enter it's lair, And sinks deeper and deeper, Into a melancholy despair. For he is an outcast, A nobody, a page in a book on a shelf, He is not wanted around, Forever adrift by himself. |