Non-Traditional

You never see the lonely
They hide in plain sight
The floor below in Boyden
With the tables packed and loud
Hovering above, playing their
Symphonies of belonging.
The lonely sit among the statues
The cold and silent stone
The unwanted doppelgangers of Rome
Below the echo of laughs like thunder
Muffled conversations gather like clouds
And rain down
An added reminder
That there's nothing here
Nothing but the lonely
As those who belong
Collect their stories on Olympus
Here I am
Non-traditional
Forgotten and old.
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