When we are born, life deals us a hand
A place where our entire being can land 
A chair where our essence of living can sit 
A slot for our very existence to fit 

But what if our path is diverted astray? 
What if a child is then given away? 
Where should the entire being then grow? 
Where is the slot for the square peg to go? 

Wherever they search, the hole's always round 
So, how can the essence of living be found? 
When their chair is never a comfortable seat 
And their search for a slot is a constant repeat 

They work and they slave to trim corners down 
And squeeze into round holes before cover's blown 
They settle there, praying that no one will say 
T’was their roughly hewn edges that gave them away 

But then the day comes, when all becomes clear 
A day when they have a good reason to cheer 
The day they first step away from the norm 
The day that they learn there's no need to conform 

Their spirits are lifted to a dizzying height 
Life becomes so much more than a fight 
For this is the day they create their own role
No more, the square peg stuck in a round hole. 

Relisted due to technical problems with the layout. 
If there are still problems, please let me know because I can't see them from here.
Thank you.