Our Own Crowd

You may call us different,
Guess different, that we are,
A freak, you may, express that way,
Won't get you very far,
We're the ones sat in the corner,
Of the blazing party lights,
All reading books or writing stories,
Trying to stay out of fights,
We're the ones with headphones in,
Our audio turned down,
Book chapters blurring through our ears,
Words fusing with our sound,
We're the ones who drink our beer,
To give us inspiration,
To dull the words and fill the mind,
With alcohol sensation,
Not enough to get us drunk,
Enough, just to imbue us,
With silken words and paper tongue,
To drown the sense in dark trust,
We've been excluded from the norm,
Good Karma and good riddance,
We've formed a clique, an open home,
To share our words, no expense,
We're different, normal's boring,
Exotic in our writes,
You may think you own our world,
But we write our own rights,
We're always winning,
In our words,
We don't have to be loud,
Unlike the rest,
To get it out,
We live in our own crowd.