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There is no room in this world for my kind;
for the daydreamers, the window gazers, the slow down & look people.
We live in chaos.
Smart appliances & technology
with no heart, no hope.
We few who feel too much,
who weep for the loss of emotional attachment,
who cannot interact with machines as humans.
My daydreaming is met with questions, with segregation. 
I am an outcast of my own making.
In a time where ‘individual’ is only acceptable within parameters,
My kind falters and fails,
trip ourselves up on words while we look to the sky.         
I weep for my kind,
but also for theirs.
Their price is their lack of emotion,
my price is my loneliness.

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