Community of Misfit Toys

Location

There, the memories

Will always rush to my head

With the bitter stab of nostalgia:

Screaming, barefoot, through a hippie church

In the starry black sky of the early morning.

Piano blasting, rising isolated spirits.

The community that may hit your vulnerability hardest,

And bring you to heart-gripping tears,

But pledge to stay with you

Through the endless hours of torture

Until you feel safe again.

 

But here,

I look at the people around me

And want so badly to help them--

What is the point of life

Without a misfit community

To wrap you in its arms, and

Abolish your strife?

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741