A snowflake falling in a wildfire, raindrops pour in the driest desert. A soothing voice is lost in the anger, reaching hands ignored in the danger. A meal which is found in famine, a hint of hope during hopeless times. Look at me, I am everything that is abnormal about this world.
I don't understand myself, Being so abnormally felt. Act so happy, smiling around, Then lie to myself hurting through ground. Talk so deep, act so trash, Happy being alone, but ending in crash. Hope someday this ends... Don't know how it would... But low key here feels kinda good.
I wish you'd all see the person in me beneath my insecurities, layers of locks into my heart. Why'd you leave me before I speak? am I not as normal as you? what is normal if there are many? Am I crazy or are you blind to see the normal in me? I wonder what's missing in me that forced you to leave. As you remain blind to the eons of hope that remains in my heart for you. As I redefine my normal for the next layer of lock that encapsulates my heart.
It hurts when your friends and those you held close to your heart ignores you and turn their backs on you. You feel as if your opinions are not normal and you question your sanity.
The curse of being the youngest is that They don’t recognise their own dysfunctionality How abnormal is their normal Convinced about the truth Yet less knowledge means less empathy Leading to laughing at you for being you The younguns should look up Yet they are the highest Psychological warfare of the ancestors Why this why that questioning us While we question the world not them ****** up wisdom is theirs But we have clear voyance, crystal I talk to myself because I can hear me And they can’t. Won’t ever…
What is normal? Is it even real? Why can't we just be ourselves Not be judged By strangers People who know nothing about us They don't know the uncomfortable feelings The hate already being thrown our way Inhumane words Hitting our shields They're breaking now Being smashed I know mine is almost done for It might as well be gone Yet the knives are still being thrown Heading right for me Hitting the target Trying to hit us Right where it hurts Will there ever be a day When we are no longer judged for us No longer tossed away like expired food Kicked out of our own home Seeking shelter But then being abused For just being who we are When are we going to stop being the target Stop being the abused Can we not be humiliated and judged Why can't we just be? Just be who we are without being hated
When people accuse me of being abnormal because I think for myself, I steadfastly continue to think for myself as I am aware that thinking for myself is the only way that a unique me in my unique situation can achieve my own unique joy and happiness.
When I seek to be normal I feel ashamed of what I am actually being; But when I seek my joy and happiness and allow myself to be my unique authentic self I feel joyful and happy just being me even if I am different than the norm.