You will always be on the outside, reluctant,
not wanting to come in.
They are not like us
and never will be.
It’s cold out here in the black
and through the glass I can see a fire burning;
Wood crackling, people laughing
And how tantalizing it looks.
I look, I see, my reflection looks like theirs, but
they do not reflect me.
I’m sure they would share—but they,
they do not understand us.
I walk outside to get away.
I don’t want to look anymore.
In the cold and black I wait, I dream,
aspiring for someone else to walk out the door.
I am a fool in hoping not to be alone anymore.
In the cold and black I wait, I dream—
for now, the door is locked.