“Normal, Normal, Ordinary, Please.”

Here is a poem I wrote. It’s in an iambic meter. (Mostly pentameter, but the first and third line of every main stanza has an extra syllable.) Hope you guys like it.
An oddity designed to cause disruption,
I’ve always been an object out of place.
I feel too much and say too much; explosion.
That is my pattern and I’m keeping pace.
Again, again and I repeat the words.
It’s “normal, normal, ordinary, please.”
So many times I’ve tried to find my purpose
And hoped that there’s a reason for my strife.
But I suspect an existential surplus:
It’s possible that I’m a waste of life.
 Again, again and I repeat the words.
It’s “normal, normal, ordinary, please.”
But who I am clings on like a disease.
Once more I find myself trapped in my own skin.
Not even I can understand myself.
I’d hoped that someday I would learn to fit in,
But “someday” came and passed; eternal hell.
Again, again and I repeat the words.
It’s “normal, normal, ordinary, please.”
Again, again and I repeat the words,
Until those words are swallowed by the breeze.