The men who don't fit in.

 I read Truman Capote's In Cold Blood months ago now.

And it is a story that has stuck around in my mind since... In particular, one poem keeps popping up in my thoughts. That's a pretty clear sign that it has had a fairly profound influence over me. 

So in realising this, I thought I'd go ahead and share it.

I hope you find it as moving as I did.

There's a race of men that don't fit in,
 A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
 And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
 And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
 And they don't know how to rest.
If they just went straight they might go far;
 They are strong and brave and true;
But they're always tired of the things that are,
 And they want the strange and new.