I stare at something
As long as I can see
The feeling of being sucked in
Completely surrounding me.
The kaleidoscope of colors
Before the black abyss;
Falling through space,
Nothing seems amiss.
The cracked tile on the floor
Is a brand new sight in my mind.
"I may be a pioneer!"
An outcast to mankind.
I think about things
How they happen and why.
But being shunned by others
Would be enough to make anyone else cry.
So I write it all down,
Rhyming, plotting, sounding it out
Trying to ignore the looks
Trying to overcome my doubt.
It works for a while
But without another thing to write
The light inside dies
And I don't even put up a fight...
What's the use in seeing things in a different way
If you let others crush what you see?
Maybe if you just get it out
It will calm the inner, stormy, blackened sea.
One day, we will all leave this Earth
And take with us how we view it,
But maybe if we take the time to write it down...
We could leave the world better than it'd like to admit.