Being an outcast
Is the stream
That runs through my veins.

My soul is trapped
In forest of darkness,
No one will find me,
Even if they tried

My heart turns black
as more labels come forward
like
Black, white, immigrant, nerd, *******
People judge me
like
Friends, strangers, mom, dad, even myself
People misunderstand me

I met Melinda in The book Speak
And I found my soulmate,
We hide from the light,
The beautiful colors,
The air of nature,
Biting our lips,
Pretending We don’t care of being hurt,
but deep down we want to disappear.

My dreams are just dreams,
My opinions are just opinions,
Shut up little girl, you don’t have a vision
Says the teacher in the room that thinks he knows who I am
Like
You cause too much problem,
You’re always alone, reading books
Probably planning to hurt somebody,
I will be watching you  little girl,
Stereotypes and stereotypes
Just cuz I want to work independently
Doesn't mean I trying to hurt the Humanity.


I am a person,
I don't want to be just one blade,
I want to be an Swiss Army knife,
SO I CAN CUT MYSELF OUT OF THIS BOX
And be the key to be free.
I want to be successful,
I love to Run, read, dance, skate
But I need my own privacy
and my own escape.

And like a bird
She flies away.
She sings her song in ultimate joy.
Her heart flutters.
Singing what comes to mind.
Soon as she is approached.
She flies away.
The wind beneath her arms.
She goes higher and higher.
Stopping in mid air,
Her arms tired & sore.
The life she deserves isn't far.
Gliding towards the horizon.
Soon as she finds peace.
It is easily disturbed.
Looking around to find the best place.
Seeking shelter she flies further.
Appearances aren't at all what they seem.
For this she is labeled and taken for granted.
Curiously placing one foot in front of the other.
Veering the opposite direction.
Her heart falling faster and faster.
They don't know her worth.
She flies higher and higher

Preached by priests and family and friends and teachers:
LOVE ONE ANOTHER
But that changes when people choose their true love,
Mommy and Daddy told me they’ll love me no matter what
But why can’t everyone else’s parents think and treat their child the same?

Since when does the holding of two peoples hands repulse a religion?
Can someone explain to me how a hug is a new boundary crossed once people are made aware of the real reason they hug?
It is no longer a hug of friendship but of love
It is no longer shared by only a man or a woman
Or a man and a woman of the same skin color.

Melanin of the skin declares who you should love
The prince and the princess in your fairytale books tell you which gender you belong with
Why do people condemn those who fully express themselves?
Your God declares your love
Forget your heart or your mind
A book written far beyond our time labels love

Love no longer needs a label
But to others
Love must die and so shall the people who love;
The people whose love does not go according to your God and your mind.

"that's *******."
"that's so gay."
"all muslims are terrorists."
"women aren't as smart as men."
these labels aren't true,
we have defeated the stereotypes.

It seems I've been travelling around
Through the word of mouth
Look at the way they speculate
Whether I'm gay or straight
Some say that I am autistic
Used to be so optimistic
That we could unite and harmonise
But it seems we are too busy
Pointing out each other's flaws
And fighting needless wars

When did I become
The headline of everyone's day?
Why do I seem to be the topic
In the stories, they spread
It seems I'm the centre focus
Once again
I'm starting to question
Will this ever end?

What will they think of next?
What do I think of Bec and her new boyfriend?
It seems like everybody's
Watching every step I take
And hanging off of every word I say
And maybe I'm a little crazy
But could you really blame me?
They think I'm an attention seeker baby

When did I become
The headline of everyone's day?
Why do I seem to be the topic
In the stories, they spread
It seems I'm the centre focus
Once again
I'm starting to question
Will this ever end?

It seems to me
That I seem to be
The talk of the town
And all the rumours
Are circulating around
Everyone's questioning me
And my sexuality
Who I'm with, what I am
What I feel, what he writes,
Is it real?

When did I become
The headline of everyone's day?
Why do I seem to be the topic
In the stories, they spread
It seems I'm the centre focus
Once again
I'm starting to question
Will this ever end?

©2018 Written By Benji James

Identity is a lot like clothing.
It is rooted in the idea that you must-
absolutely must-
wear it in order to offer anything
to society.

But sometimes, your body changes.
It is a natural process,
a revolution of cells and mathematics
and biology merging,
stretching,
or thinning into white lines.
It is something that every human
inevitably experiences,
and yet we are taught to punish ourselves
for our bodies
if they do not fit the clothing
or the style
that is "in."

I used to be thin and nondescript.
I conformed easily;
my skinny jeans were snug and comforting
and entirely right.
But as I grew older,
they began to struggle to climb my hips,
to nestle my waist and claim ownership
of the land they once recognized.
They became a distraction.
They became a discomfort.

So I traded them for something looser.
Something new.  Similar, yes, but different.
My friends did not understand.
"Why couldn't you just go a size up?
The old style was just fine.
A bigger size would suit you better,
so why not at least try?"

Why, indeed?  I still wonder.

Perhaps it was because so many people
tried to buy me new clothes.
I didn't understand or particularly like
the ripped, frayed blue jeans,
and I definitely did not favor
the vulnerability of short skirts
or tight dresses.

Why should you dictate
what I decide to wear,
as if you have any right to my body?

Why do you insist on such precise fits?

Why can't I dance through my days
in something loose, something flowing,
something I myself don't understand?

Instead, I still tried to wear my old pants.
And when again they no longer fit,
stretched and miserable and wrong,
I lay down in the laundry basket
and waited to be discovered
and tossed out
with the ***** clothes.