abnormal
Learn more about other poetry terms
I was strange/
Books and papers were my pleasure/
Unlike the kids who wanted treasure that one could not afford/
The shelves overflowed with my stories/
I wish I was normal. I wish I was just like you.
Well, maybe not “JUST” like you, but close enough.
Close enough to fit in like you.
Close enough to blend in with the crowd
addicted to zoning out
but still learning about growing out
my mind is always filled with doubt
as I drop the ashes into the grout
I wonder why I'm a social drought
He put a razor inside my lunch pale
Along with heads or tails
I know he's hinting death
As I hide behind my veil
Need a pair of clippers
To cut my cutthroat nails
And I red pair of scissors
Don’t bend yourself
To fit the mold.
Break it; make it yours.
Be the person
You want to be.
Ignore their hateful scorn.
Step back and take
A look at yourself.
I am an American Born and raised
But Society tells me that my race was enslaved.
"WAS" I say
Because obviously we still are
To me we are everything but by far.
Its a shame i'm seeing more coffins then diplomas
More babies, more mothers, no fathers just sperm donors
And life just don't Condon us to reach for those personas that developed into careers with fancy houses and chandlers.