Select Page

In exile
set apart
continually mending
a broken heart.

Completely different
and exactly the same
connected and distant,
this is my name.
I connect with everyone
that I come across
but feel so alone
with tragedy and loss.

I am in exile,
my pride and shame,
my calling it seems,
so I made it my name.

My struggle not worse
then anyone else’s,
but my solemn curse
is to build up defenses.
Trust no one to much
with sorrow or grief
for the struggles with such
will provide no relief.

When in a crowd
as each soul passes
there feelings scream loud
so I hide from the masses.
Wishing to be like the next guy,
so I go through the motions.
Still every day I cry
overwhelmed with emotions.

I am in exile
no longer a freak
my weakness is my strength
my curse makes me unique.
Though the pain I carry
may hurt more as I grow old
and at times it is scary,
but it drives me to live bold.

After all what is worship?
What is love’s sacred oath?
If not balanced with hardship,
God loves us through both.
So though I may feel
alone and afraid,
He is with me still
and my path He has made.

I am in exile,
and I understand how
one day I will be free,
one day but not now.

I am in exile,
say it out loud.
My name is identity
alone in a crowd.