Starry Stranger

Left out, that’s me.

Now going on year three

Since minds could be read, really!

Except for yours truly.

I was worried at first

That I might be different,

I might be worse.

But the reason became apparent.

I met a stranger with a starry stare.

A golden star tattooed upon his back

and the number 35 printed there

in the middle of it; in black.

“Your parents weren’t transparent,”

he said. I shook my head and cursed.

I argued. He shrugged, “They weren’t.”

“You’re adopted. You’re not from this Earth.”

Yours truly had his doubts.

But the stranger taught me about

Other Earths and Traversing throughout

the multi-verse. Now I’m on walkabout.

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