why must i be viewed as an anomaly in this world?
as i gaze into the eyes of those who are above me,  i can only wonder.
for what have i done that is considered sin? is my mere presence like
a gilded elephant in a room of monochrome silhouettes? i hold firmly
on the last vibrant balloon of my fleeting conviction as i walk between the masses,
wondering “what have i done to deserve this hell?” as i tread the roads
of this winding society, i let loose of the balloon, and the colors begin to drain from my life.
now, i am but a puppet of society. tie the string around my arm and carry me like a balloon,
and let me go as the days pass. let me fly into the skies to eventually pop
and plummet back down as you find your new toy, and repeat the process, as to you i was but rubber and plastic. and i am. i am rubber and plastic - let me rot for the solstices to pass as my dead body gazes into the sky for a lifetime, awaiting to be buried in the soil. i am but the pieces of the fragile material that endured too much pressure and just popped.