He was an ordinary man
With an extraordinary attitude,
At least in first stanza he seemed
Worth of particular attention.
He wrote words of life and feelings
Neatly disposed to raise my curiosity,
A sensible spirit would seem to transpire
Albeit an odd inclination to flaunt
His appearance. A face a smile a trademark
Finding comfort in superficial approval,
Hiding his flaws to a virtual public
Yet too genuine to hide them well
When met in person. His eyes betray
His intentions, long used to
A masochistic miserability
He is now unable to relate
To his newfound seemingly boring
Well-being. He knows he is lucky to be alive
To have survived, yet
The departure of his cosy despair
Leaves him stranded
On an island where being him
Is a lonesome rarity.