The Scouring Monk, the Invisible Man

Unwanted by the world,
I could only entertain myself
in fictional ones.

Betrayed on all sides,
I became an island of one.

Every time I demonstrated
a spark of potential,
I was left behind by everyone.

I became a scouring monk,
not because I wanted to,
but because I had to.

I became an invisible man,
a pariah, anathema
to all the world,
though I did my best
with what I had
to contribute.

It was never enough,
and every cheek turned
away, every shoulder.

What else could result
from this?

Some rough miracle?