Outcast :- The Place Where I Don't Fit

I was a piece more or less,

Unfit in the puzzle of society,

Framed and judged, 

Broken and scraped, 

Torn to the base.

I stood to be the thinker,

With thoughts as my mate,

As the wife is too a husband,

I kept courting with anxiety,

Maybe sometimes with fear,

Or with shame that world-acclaimed,

As the flaws of being me.

I stood there many times,

Neither to be oriented, 

Nor to be included,

Just to be accepted with love, 

Yet as a poison is to nectar,

I was the toxin to them 

I was discarded and treated,

To purify the viciousness,

And be a part of the deprived fellowship.

I can't stand anymore there,

With the crime of resistance, 

To not oblige with the rules, 

As a cage is to the bird, 

Statutes were the prison,

To my solivagant soul 

Shredded with the conclusions 

I was qualified as an outcast,

Neither a human,

Nor a living being 

All it was a prolonged-term 

As a slave is to the master,

I was chained to the phrase.

To be always smashed,

Under the debts of acceptance.