I am different.

Not in visage, nor style, nor walk,

Not in avocation, nor mannerism, nor talk,

But in hope and dream and state of mind.

 

I am different

In that

The radioactive waves of lies

Come crashing over and flooding,

Yet pass clear over my head,

Like the rushing autumn wind carries a whisper,

And I swim opposite the conditioned zombies,

Who mindlessly trudge

Line by line,

One by one,

Animate,

But dead.

I will not stay the course that’s being forced,

Straying from the flock,

Leaving the flow,

For those who go that way devour the brains of those poisoned with hate,

So I shirk the same hateful fate.

 

I am different

In that

I realize

That life is about more than reality.

Because the

Failure,

Pain,

Heartache

Of reality extinguishes fire,

Tramples the burning heart,

Slaughtering desire,

Exterminating the budding genius of the inspired.

I keep my head out of the clouds

Because the clouds are laced with smog and smoke which swallows all sign of

The good

And the hope

And the dreams

Which CAN be found in the small of the pit,

In the rough of the road,

In the tumult of the storm.

Instead I hide my heart with the stars,

Above Earth’s ozone,

Afar from the ways of the world,

Over the fog,

So I can see clearly.

 

I am different

In that

I know

That people are just ions,

And most negatively charged.

All scour for a proton,

A beam of energy,

A wave of warmth,

A ray of light

To trump their black and white.

But what they search for cannot be found,

Only created.

I paint my canvas with every color,

Abandoning simple monotone,

Filling blank spaces with strokes of emotion.

Hoping to splash

Joy,

Light,

Laughter,

Love,

Revelation,

Vision,

Motivation,

So crimson passion pumps through the labyrinths of the bluest soul.

 

I am different

In that

I hear

The sadistic tune

Created by this orchestra called life.

Lackluster,

Drab,

Dull,

A haunting lull

Wrought by those who aim to make us all the same,

To suppress

Unique,

Individual,

Special,

Calling anyone who sports those qualities a freak,

All the while destroying extraordinary.

I compose my own piano solo

Changing the rhythm of my life,

Rewriting my melody with notes of

Thunderous ambition,

Feverish spirit,

Quiet hope,

Dancing to the beat of my own drum because

I am me

And they are themselves—

Me they can never be.

 

I am different.

Not in visage, nor style, nor walk,

Not in avocation, nor mannerism, nor talk,

But in hope and dream and state of mind.

 

I am different.

Not because of predetermined destiny,

Nor a life of privilege and prosperity,

But only because

I CHOOSE TO BE.

 

Breaking the chains they’ve slapped on me

I’ve fled from their reality

But only because

I CHOSE TO FLEE.

 

Don’t you see?

 

YOU COULD BE DIFFERENT, too.