Different
I am different.
From my brown, wavy hair
to the sketchbook in my hands
I am different
from the clones of this world
sometimes
it can also get lonely
I am different
People can see
that I walk the other direction
I am different
People don't like that
They decide to pick on me
I am different
Crying in my room
my sketchbook lying in the corner
gathering dust
I am different
laying in bed
knowing now that
I am alone
I am different
I straighten my hair
throw my sketchbook away
and walk with the crowd
I was different
Now I am a clone
but I thought it was worth it
I am not alone.
I look at the girl
with red curly hair
and the sketchbook in her hand
now I wish
I wasn't a clone.
I am different,
with my red curly hair.