being yourself
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Outcast
pitiless
pariah
crawling on my knees,
beating my breast
moaning
" mea culpa."
The crowd would love that-
a spectacle.
( or if not love, tolerate.)
But no,
Let's turn the page
I have a story to tell
About being on stage
And how I fell
I'm attached to strings
Yet I want to be free
Everyone else sings
While I wish to be me
Contrary to popular setup,Beauty isn't on the outside,It can't be found in clothes, money, or makeup,Or in color, shape, or size,Beauty isn't in hobbies or even sight,
I haven't forgotten the girl whose name no one knew.
She never let herself be
The person people didn't see,
But she never was reason for rumors either.
She only did what made her content.
Under the surfaceResides an unknown girlDifferent from the one exposed to the worldI hide her insidewhere no one can seeBut this girl, the one trapped beneath the surface, is the real me.
Like a shadow in the sun,
I followed.
I conformed to what others told me I should be.
Following the social norm,
I was content with fitting in.
I could be easily swayed one way or the other;
If you asked me to describe who I was last year
I could not tell you
Even she would not have the words to depict herself
She had no clue
Insecurities and emotions skewed her self-image
Until she grew
I was tired of the conformity,
I had finally found myself.
The braids hid the real me,
Long and black,
Suffocating my true self.
The words were thrown,
Like blows from hands,
You have no hair,
The thing I’m most superficial about
Is my own uniqueness
When I was a little kid
It was important to me
That I’d pick a different color or number
Black and White, Black and White
They meander around me
Their opinions
Black and White, Black and White
Will they ever let me be?
She
pens her whispers into hushed handwriting.
shouts her fears, thoughts, angers into the cold clean air.
slinks through every inhalation that passes,
You tell me I'm complicatedBut you're the one to make it soLook at what you see up frontThat's all you need to know
Why be me when you can be you?
Why be someone else when there is always you?
Everyone has their own troubles and happiness
You are the only one who knows you best
No one has it perfect
We hardly laugh.
Do you remember your laugh?
I love to hear children laugh free.
We have it covered;
Our real laughts are covered,
But the laughs of the young are free.
I am many things
I am a writer and a reader
I am self driven and never do I mind
That my mind is a mess
And rarely makes scene.
I am a soon to be graduate and forensic pathologist
Be who you are
Be who you see yourself become
Be who you want to be around
for that is who you will become
Personality is a reflection
I am from curiosity, letting go of hands
Tumbling down stairs
No one around me, to say “Hey watch out”
A lone giggle
I am from quite lonely days
Who am I, you ask? I am me.
I can't narrow it down--that's all I can be.
I refuse to be labeled by what people see.
All I want is just to be free to be me.
A wildfire of a soul--entrapped by glass of reality.
Ferociously burning, in which drains for all eternity.
This is passion.
My passion.
A baby, not even a moment oldIts story is unwritten, clean, untoldGrows into a child, encouraged to fulfill his dreamsJust be sure to fit within society’s scheme
I've always been told that I'm not good enough
I'm told that I need to change to fit in
But I just respond with "Nah, that's not me"
I was at my first party and someone handed me a drink
Before the mask
an urged facade
we were shamelessly us
but they found it odd
An idiosyncrasy
among their "perfection"
trying to fit in
there was a disconnection
Hello and welcome to the grand tour,
Saftey exits are to your right just in case.
Trust me, many people have used them.
If you decide to stick around we're going to have quite the long day,
We are black and white
Light and dark
Angels in halos
Of the conflicting sort
I am the black
Hiding in light's shadow
Wishing and waiting
for when I shine too
Downgrading someone’s beauty because of the shade of their skin?That’s like loathing a flower for the colour of its pigment.Lessening someone’s attractiveness because of the texture of their hair?
Do you ever just wonder, Listen, and wait?Before that moment is gone - its too late.That moment is behind us, Its stuck in the past.But why let that stop you, Must the pain last?
A leaf falls
Drifts in the wind
Carried on a breeze smelling of wood smoke
And the sound of splashing
Sinks into my skin
Like the sun
Bounces off the autumn leaves
Sheading summer skin
the feeling of power swallows the soul into an abyss ofan evil being we thought would be never capable.but then there's the mighty ones turning that power into a beacon of hope and a brighter future for man kind.
What matters to me? What matters to you? To him or to her or to us all?
What a simply complicated question, like a river or a song, an answer so long;
A long graceful tree with so many poking, preaching branches to call, so tall,
Please do not judge me on my face
My religion or my race
Don't judge me on my hair
Where I live or what I wear
Don't judge me on how I look
Or even the way I cook
Often we forget from where we are originated. We let expensive items define who we are. We lose touch of the person we want to be, and turn into the person that society defined.
One voice , on, one heart , one mind ,
but what is the purpose to believe in ones own kind
to believe in theenter beauty that was given to you from above
to love and cherish ones own family .
As I look threw the thick clear glass,
I don't see my reflection,
As I look deeper, and deeper into the glass
I was no where to be found.
My mind was spinning, my heart was pounding,
I was losing my mind.
I am young and I want to learn
This is me
I am free and am willing to fly
This is me
I am honest and i will become your friend
This is me
I am real and i will show myself
This is me
I had a thought
I had a thought as I sat in my room trying to make sense of my life
Trying to make sense of the rejection, the difficulty, the strife
My heart should be as large as the Grand Canyon.
Love rushing through it like water,
carving it out,
squirming its way in,
making it wider, deeper,
more soulful.
It should beat for those who love me,
