Seven billion puzzle pieces scattered around
All the pieces go different directions,
Yet someone made this notion that they must fit in.

They are lonely and lost,
Yet someone made this notion that they must fit in.

They cannot look around and wander alone because
someone made this notion they must fit in.

They must play pretend and reconstruct the piece of the world they possess because someone made this notion they must fit in.

Or else they can adopt the name, outcast.

Now, this is not a puzzle. It’s life, get it right. It is imperfect beauty taken away from unsure insecurity, yet someone made this notion they must fit in.