He walked a lonely road, but he had himself for company. 

More than could be said for those who burned themselves in effigy. 

He did not have to find himself, seek approbation in another, 

He did not have to sell himself, in hopes of a new lover. 

Unlike them he no fear of accepting who he was, 

Though alone, he was at peace with all his strengths and all his flaws. 

And he watched as those who weren’t played themselves for fools, 

Clamoring for disappointment, following the vanity of others’ rules. 

Faking love and faking care, petrified of being outcast, 

Letting go of all their dreams, their desires lost to a rashly-chosen past, 

Settling for what they knew was not real just to get ahead, 

But ahead to where they never asked and soon they would be dead. 

They sacrificed themselves for the semblance of a cozy home, 

That was nothing but a cage, o they were so scared to be alone. 

So he walked in shadow with himself, bearing his heavy burden,

Knowing he would always be better than the ploys of those distorted men.

And those who sought acceptance when it cost them who they were, 

Were lonelier than he by far, have been hooked by a deceptive lure, 

Heart alone in crowded rooms, alone when with whom they chose, 

Like a dying flower on a bush, a shriveled, unwatered rose. 

Though he carried his lost love and his ills, a heavy, sorrowful load, 

It was lighter than their world of pretense, though surrounded … 

they walked a lonelier road.