Alone In The Crowd Poem by Benjamin Mitchell

It's times like these I start to fear
That I was born for a different sphear:
It seems there's not much for me here
Nothing, no one that I hold dear.

I sit as life lives all around me
Though it's long since ceased to astound me
Neither sentiment nor care have found me.
Concern for others has yet to hound me.

Is something the matter with my mind?
Am I not a man? Are these not my kind?
Is there a reason I have yet to find?
A reason to regret leaving this life behind?

I suppose eventually I'll understand
The logic of whoever had my life planned.
'Til then I'll just keep playing this hand
And leave loved ones lying under time's shifting sand.

Although, of men, I tend to think less,
I consider few to be truly selfless.
For, if no one else will, I'll confess
To complete absorption in my selfishness

Perhaps that's why my attempts at life prove feeble:
I've not yet learned to live for other people.