You stand in the center of a room of friends
And yet you stand alone.
Afraid of what they may say about you,
The real you.
They are friends with who you think you want to be,
But you are afraid that it is not really you.
And though you may rise like summer dust in the desert sun,
Again and again they sweep away your scattered soul,
Taking joy in the power they have over you.
Then there is the jealousy.
Bring down those above you,
Jealous of the very people you hate.
And instead of rising through the gale force wind,
You cling to the hand that smacks you.
You stand alone because you feel you must,
As if silence toward your so called friends
will solve the problems you created
Because you do not know what to say or who to be
Giving them the power
And so you stand alone.