Sometimes I don't belong.
"10 things all women do",
screams the headline
Not me, I think, scrolling along.
"every man should try this", demands the caption.
And I just sit here thinking, not for me.
Do they even understand a fraction
Of what it's like to be
Here, in the middle, in between?
"just another queer millenial"
Is that what they see?
Can it really be that they reduce me
To that? Because I know
That I am so much more
But still, this is a blow
That strikes hard
And it hurts.
Am I allowed to cry?
Under which of society's odd rules should I
Handle my feelings about this?
Because men, as it is,
Are unmanly when they let tears flow.
Women, however, are expected to do so.
Now what do I do?
I could lose myself in thinking this through
Over and over again.
My circling thoughts never come to a halt.
There's just this one thing I know:
It is not my fault
That I can't seem to fit in.
That's the way it has always been.
One gets used to it, you know?
Just keep fighting and grow
up to be who you want to be.

Often things go over my head
Miss subliminal meaning in words said
Am I really stupid because I do not understand
Innuendos the rest of the room can?
I will be the first to admit I'm unaware
There is more inside my skull than empty air
I remember when I was able to rely on my gut
When I wasn't always asking "what?"
Nowadays I am constantly left out
I am never quite sure what you're talking about
In the dark I am kept away
In a room shaded black and grey
Silence locks truth up tight
Concealing it out of my sight
Everybody is in on the most public joke
Except me beause I'm too blind to see through the smoke
I hope you don't think I'm stupid for asking questions
I am intelligent I just don't pay attention
My gullible nature may make me a breeze to trick
But the fact you see me as a target is sick
Sometimes I get the punchline too late
That doesn't make me a less suitable mate
Sorry for every embarrassing thing I have said
I don't know why but things too often go way above my head

The warmth of a mug full of that new coffee,
Keeping you from feeling completely numb.
Hold on.

The embrace of the sun's rays as it wakes from its slumber,
Greeting you with a smile as it wakes the flowers, too.
Hold on.

The touch of a hand settling over yours,
Bringing you back to the present.
Hold on.

The wet nose of your dog brushing up against your arm,
Urging you to take them for a morning stroll.
Hold on.

The familiarity of the sidewalk and texture of the leash,
Inspiring you to look at your surroundings.
Hold on.

The welcoming sight of jessamines,
Enveloping you with a vivid yellow.
Hold on.

The sense of home given by that fragrant stew,
Rewarding you for taking that journey outside.
Hold on.

The threat of never experiencing these again,
Commanding you to burn the rope, put the stool away.
Hold on.

The distinct sound of the gears shifting as you type away,
Writing a poem of perseverance and hope.
Hold on.