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.