What is normal?
Is it even real?
Why can't we just be ourselves
Not be judged
People who know nothing about us
They don't know the uncomfortable feelings
The hate already being thrown our way
Hitting our shields
They're breaking now
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
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
Let me know what you think.
I'm not the kind of girl
Who would be good for you
How can you categorise me quickly
When you don't know all the truth
Everybody is different
I don't believe that all these labels
Can sufficiently, predictably
Determine me unstable
In your eyes I bet
You think you know me
Wholly and sure
You think that I do not think deeply
But you're so misinformed
Don't box me in like that please
I am not my profession
I am not my behaviour
I'm not what I wear to lessons
I am not just my skin type
I am not just an illness
I am not what you project on me
this version anonymous
I don't think anything I say
Will change the way I come off
My first impressions always displays me
A little bit rough
So I am done today
Just label me
I won't even argue
I cannot change this perception
I am me, you are you.
I made mistakes
Then people call me fake
I do things to make them happy
In the end they'll laugh behind my back
They call me many things
But, there's one thing that keeps ringing
I am a nobody
Just an invisible person
Without the label of a teacher
Nonetheless things are pointed out
With care and diligence
Comments meticulously exacting
As though there is a sixth sense
About what is detailed
More than busy, attention is thorough
Rigor seeps from every statement
Oozing inside the listeners skull
How much perseverance can
Be understood while feeling
Crushed beneath a microscope’s slide
*A recent word of the day
I'm like a book
People judge me based on my cover
That they don't even bother
To read my story
Or even my introduction
For that matter
Some read a chapter or two
Until they were through
Took me and threw
In most cases
I'm packed on a shelf
Collecting dust and cobwebs
Waiting to be judged
Or hopefully opened and read
By someone else
P.s can't remember the rest. Bear with me lol
I was just bolts with a jar of mortality
sitting on top of a conscience frame.
Were they just following programs to
fulfil a outdated programme.
Like watching black & white programs
on an old 4K television screen.
Incompatible to even comprehend that
the actions & consequences
were known when the switch
was no longer, like a god everything was preordained.
But for one to know everything, one must know
the intricate nuance's of action and consequence.
They had no emotion, no feeling. Not knowing that
what was forgivable, to give one a second chance.
Instead they just hollow pointed there intention across.
A full stop in the heart,
and a silence of thought in the head.
For when the genie was released every action was a
ripple of what could become.
And they thought to stop crime was to see the actions,
of one and all. So a child,
was read on mannerisms
Psyche profiles where constructed and without a moment
cries where silenced.
The protector of all who now judged,
Tears of infants fell silent.
I was the machine with a heart,
beating to the reality that all where guilty till
We were few, but we judged the machines before us,
unworthy were those that took a life.
For an algorithm that was corrupt of humanity.
Serving with the strength of conviction,
but we would see deep within and see the seed that
could grow not clip it blossom before it could grow.
Machines were once the morals of mans sentences,
now there are those who see morality.
But have the steel to back up on the convictions.
Morals are mans strength not a weakness,
I'm just bolts with a jar of mortality.
but before all were guilty...
Slabs now hold the misjudgement of so many.
we see beyond 000,s & 11111's
were not numbers were more than that now.
We live in a judgemental society
Where the real you is only abstract.
From a young age we are taught to believe
That only society can define how you act.
From the moment we enter the world
We are forced to sign a contact.
Torn away from freedom of opinion
We begin our journey with no way back.
Beauty overrules personality
Money defines your future
Being intelligent is a crime
And standing out makes you a loser.
The paths you choose to follow
Always end the same.
There is no way to escape society
Because we all have been chained.
People are ridiculed for being happy
But called weak when sad.
We dare not share our views
For we’d be labelled as mad.
We live in a judgemental society
Where no one seems to win.
Forced to be someone society defines,
The real you fades within.
This poem is about the way people judge us for who we are and what we do.
I found my autobiography on the fiction shelves in the town library!?
Sometimes the things we do and see others will never face or know in their reality.
have judged you
without knowing what
you've been through.
I thought l would use their judgements
But it's not enough motivation
Maybe l grow with being judged