I'm the friend you forget-
The one who is invited
In grand adventures
When they're nothing more
Than ideas
But omitted when plans solidify-
Usually merely by accident.

I don't know why.
I have always tried
To be funny and smart
And non-threateningly pretty
And over-all appealing
I always do my best
To be helpful
And never ever a burden.

I don't have the skills
To draw souls forth
And gather them for revels,
So I have always depended
On the kindness
And charity of others-
To always feel like a hanger-on,
One-not-belonging
But there anyway.

I have no one
Who is mine,
To remember me
Nine times out of ten
And not lose me in the mess of others.

Must I always stand alone
Or as a puzzle piece
That doesn't fit?