Overwhelmed, I'm underwhelming
With my low abilities and
My lack of understanding, with
My absent faculties.  To stand
Beneath the firmament and feel
Asphyxiated by its sea
Of waters is the same as dread
At the knowledge that one might be
An unnecessary part of
Some unfathomable great whole
Which has no place for any but
The few it chooses.  And what soul
Can withstand barrages aimed to
Tear down hope when all the substance
Of the ephemeral is tied
Up in optimistic pretense
To force it through the barriers
Of high potential that arise
Only to contain it?  I know
Nothing which can penetrate guise
Better than time alone to think
Of all the absent things I miss
For never having had them but
Knowing that I should, for all this
Executive appearance can
Only badly cover up what
Hides overtly there beneath in
Me, all my deficiencies.  Cut
Off from the rest of the world, I
See myself standing there beside
It, as if there was a plastic
Globe encasing all while astride
This impenetrable cocoon
I live, encaged by empty space
While everyone else is happy
Confined by their freedom.  What trace
Amount of bliss can fill all of
The infinite void that's only
Mine to inhabit, when it's plain
To see diffusion will carry
Each particle of joy beyond
The grasp of discrete motion where
I find myself quantified?  I
Do not recall a questionnaire
In some place I was at before
I found myself here, asking me
To choose the who, the how, the what,
The why of my existence, the
Particulars of everything
Which makes me who I am; no, I
Am not aware that any such
World or choice was there before my
Unborn consciousness to elect
It's destination in this form-
Yet I am convinced that it must
Have been so, that there in that warm
Paradise of unseen splendor
And blesséd comfort I duly
Sat before those in charge of such
Pedestrian matters, hardly
Alive yet still responsible
For such weight as choosing all this
Circumstance encircling my life,
And chose the road devoid of bliss
As the path I would walk down, the
Very one upon which I spend
Each day fruitlessly wandering.
Yes, for how else could such an end
Befall me without a means like
The consequence of my own choice
In the matter, how else could luck
And fate ignore my pleading voice
Imploring them just once to have
A momentary lapse wherein
I could but taste the sweet nectar
Of actual joy and begin
To know how it feels to be a
Human at last, replete with all
The spectrum of human thoughts
And experiences?  The small
Likelihood that such happenstance
Was not the result of action
Personally chosen is an
Infinitesimal fraction
Too minute to be taken with
A modicum of gravitas,
For if the truth is contrary
To these sullen beliefs, alas
It must leave no other option
But to be that I am the one
Selected abnormality,
The lone blemish on the bright sun
That is the remainder of my
Kind, the black fungus on the pure
White carpet, the contrast to set
The levels, the bile to immure
Before it spoils the desired
Cuts.  What a bizarre irony
That my place in the world is to
Be alone beyond its bound'ry.