We were a speculation for you to feast your greedy eyes on, for you to laugh and point at, even though the object of your mirth wasn't nearly as amused.
we were freaks.
we were lost souls
on a caravan to nowhere.
selling thoughts for a penny
but there isn't a dime to spare
and we watched
as people paraded themselves
through our freak show,
pretending to be superior
in the face of our circus.
but they were strange too,
they just hadn't been caught yet.
time flies, they say,
but time stole its wings from us,
from the weirdos sitting on the sidelines,
crouching under bleachers and squinting at the cheerleaders,
aghast at the brightness of the sun.
we wrote serenades on the sides of crickets,
listening as they rubbed them off with music,
a tilting, lilting hum.
we wrote sonnets of love
to the guise of normality,
about how abnormal it is to fit in.
we existed as the freaks.