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Yourshadow Dec 2024
“You’re weird,” you say with a grin so wide,  
“That’s what I like about you,” you say with pride.  

“I like that you’re weird,” you repeat,
Your laughter bubbling, soft and sweet.

"I’m normal, right?" you ask with a glance,  
I tilt my head, caught in a trance.  

"I like normal," I softly reply,
We both end up shocked, flustered and shy
This is based off [2 Kids Room] Ep.16
I love their conversations so much
Nostalgia Nov 2024
To be different is a privilege.
To be normal makes you survive.
Normal is just a label. Different is a label too.
One is labeled bad. While the other one is good.
To stand out and to blend in.
To bully or be the bullied.
We are not too far off from each other.
We are just labeled.
Emery Feine Sep 2024
#57
Oh, I could drown in the air
Suffocate in the seas
I could float in the waterfall
Or fall in the breeze

Oh, I could freeze from the blazing sun
Burn from the coldness of a heart
I could stand on the whole universe
Or on each grain of sand's part

Oh, I could materialize anywhere
Or disappear for good
I've tried to do everything, normal or strange
But I could still never be understood.
this is my 57th poem, obviously, written on 11/27/23.
Karma Nov 2024
I swear
There’s nothing wrong
With me.
I swear
I am alright

I swear
I don’t need
Therapy.
Swear I haven’t
Lost my sight.

I swear
The voices are
My own,
And my will
To shun is strong.

I swear
That I’d be
Left alone,
If I listened
To their songs.

I swear
My grasp
On reality
Is flawlessly
In tact.

So why
Is it
That in my dreams
My thoughts
Can hold me back?

Why is it
That when
I blink
My dreams begin
To speak?

And why is it
That in my
Brink
The voices
Start to leak?

I swear,
I swear,
It isn’t true.
I haven’t
Lost my head.

I swear,
I swear,
I never knew,
I way,
I can’t be dead.

I swear,
I swear,
I’m in control.
I never
Let them even sigh.

I swear,
I sear,
Trust me, I know,
That why I
Almost never cry.
Try to send me to therapy all you want, Mother.
I shan't abandon my post until my final breath has been drawn.
Zywa Jul 2024
The day starts okay,

normal, like yesterday, just --


slightly different.
Science fiction novel "Grimus" (1975, Salman Rushdie - A Simurg(h) ['Thirty birds'] is a Persian legendary creature, an omniscient bird, symbol for someone's world of thought), part 1 Times Present, chapter 2

Collection "Low gear"
Zywa May 2024
Everything normal:

the queen size beds, the TV --


and the pizza box.
American motel
Novel "Quichotte" (2019, Salman Rushdie), part 2, chapter 9

Collection "Low gear"
Thomas Harvey May 2024
When life gets hard
He begins to smile
For he knows, you can’t cook without lard
And he’d rather walk home then walk a mile

When sunny days disappear
He folds his umbrella away
And follows up, with an afternoon beer
For even the rain doesn’t get in his way

For when he’s fired and put out on the street
He walks up town to buy a car
And then a house for somewhere to sleep
Later he even goes to the bar

Once he was struck by lightening
Then hit by a bus
You know what he said was more frightening
Being in the hospital and seeing all of us

A man who stands his ground
Whose determination knows no bounds
A man that’s been found
And also, a man that should be crowned
Jeremy Betts Mar 2024
What I wouldn't give to be normal
Well,
Let's be real,
I know nothing about normal
Is there an actual definition that could be written in a way to make it simple?
I've tried to define it but I don't think it's possible
Forcing this to be rhetorical
But here we go,
What is normal?
All I've been able to conclude is it's normal to question what's normal
Other than that though,
It may be undefinable

©2024
Zywa Feb 2024
Wouldn't you feel sorry

for normal people who cling --


to being normal?
Novella "De grote wereld" ("The upper world", 2006, Arthur Japin), § 1

Collection "Appearances"
Jeremy Betts Feb 2018
No place for me to fit in, sometimes not even my own skin
The 65th crayon on the floor next to the 64 count special edition tin
The two dollar DVD bin is even out of reach, at a loss as to where else to begin
I guess it's back to the drawing board to start over once again
Not a chance of bein' normal as an outcasted heathen
But that's never been a why for me, to fit in is not a win
I've been sittin' in this same place like a mannikin with a phoney grin
A clothespin holdin' together the fabric of my being with such discipline
But a strong gust of wind tears through like blowing your nose into a cheap napkin

Patched together like a quilt of sin read like a story board of which I'm a star in
Stitched together by not giving in, givin' it all I can, taking every shot to the chin
But life's not getting the win by KO or even by decision
I'm gonna need to be taken out the ring on a stretcher with blue skin
But the goal isn't really to win but to survive this doomed zeppelin
I start thinking maybe I can take this aggression and passion and turn it in...
...to a winnin' combination and spread it through the nation
Empower an entire generation, awaken an entire population

But all they'll see is Frankenstein's monster

©2018
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