His life amiss, not just out of place, but an anachronism
Holding various beliefs others considered odd or quaint
A cacophony sound, a din, modernity crushed his mind
The world was impolite, just short of being barbarism
Unable to interpret the madness, he appeared as a stain
Modernity's speed was a blur, it moved without pause
It was faster than any contemplative mind was able
In fact moved faster than any genius could decide
Lost in time, a man alone, his life was a puzzle
He lived without a place that he could consider home
Some offered sympathy, thinking him a sad case
He lived a life with fears, paranoia and doubt
He wasn't perfect, wrong in ways, not a saint
Time swallows and spits out all
Especially those who do not conform
His life was lost from the beginning
He knew, there was no way out
"I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in
this century and among those who are still men.”
H.P. Lovecraft
