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.