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I know the loneliness of the 'don't belong',
The inner anguish when you are always wrong,
The jealous spite that makes the envious mean,
Who because they lack it, like to spoil your dream.
I walked in snow in shoes that had no soles,
And with bare feet on stones as hot as coals,
Had blistered hands before I was thirteen,
And to a thousand places I had walked and seen.
Bitter years they were, and I did grope
But never lost my dignity nor my hope.
And maybe, well just maybe it was a plan,
Designed for me, though 'tis humble that I am.
'Tis much that has been gathered in my mind,
That spills out freely, be it cruel or kind.
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