Square Peg. A poem.

I was always a square peg,
out-of-place in round holes
with all the rounded souls.

An outsider striving
to make his way inside,
always locked out in the cold.

A perpetual stranger,
dwelling amongst strangers
and stranger things, I’d wager.

Hold me and shape me,
mould me like supple clay
into a thing of better ways.

And let this tactile process
knead this square soul
into a rounder whole.

I write a lot of poetry, some of which doesn’t appear on this website. For more poems, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book of poetry, available at most online book sellers.
Click here to buy a copy!

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