The world has no place for us
The creative, the introverted, it only accepts the best as that is its crutch
To depend on humanity's strange idea of perfection
Day in and day out, through both peace and times of insurrection
The awkward ones, the deep thinkers and the people that go by logic as well as the spirit
That speak their own truth onto the world until someone wises up and hears it.
The world has no place for you or me
To be an outsider, an outlandish freak seems to be our destiny.

The world has no place.... so we should do what we do best.... create.

You live in a box
In a song in my dreams
In my memories in my heart
You my love live in my past
I dream about you
I think about what could be
You come into my life
And leave just as fast
This is not a jump in jump out
Kinda thing
My heart can't take it

It's all relative.
A reoccurring measure.
The same hellos and goodbyes.
A rose.
Red now only through the daggers they wield.
A pedal for each their own.
And as they fall away.
Saturated.
Lifelessly performing.
Arrogantly consuming beyond its means.
Just to resemble what will always be remnant.
For that's all there is left.
A perfected parody to a lesson lost among these..
Adamant followers.
Distraction leads to complacancy.
Which inevitably resorts to a persona of pain.
Wander lust envokes the soul.
Calamity is assured.
Waste not the effort to react.
For there will be no natural to this disaster.
Only a faint whisper.
Beyond that.
I will not say.

Hello there!!!
I’m Jordan…
And I am the weird one…
I can scream like a banshee…
My go to would be Reese’s pieces when I’m stressed…
And I will eat box after box of them if I need to…
My taste in music is a bit blended up you could say…
Genres from death metal to dubstep to classical…
Inside my head their melodies they play…
What can I say?
Music is my life…
And when I’m broken hearted?
I pretend that the dancing lyrics are my non-existent wife…
The melody her face…
The chorus her midsection…
And the pounding bass her awkward flailing ligaments…
But sometimes that picture doesn’t appear in my mind…
So I dissolution myself by sketching and writing my fantasies that reach deeper and farther than any of all of the seas…
And I do this because it’s my only escape from reality…
‘Cause life ain’t all it’s cracked up to be…
The key to life is not success…
Or at least I see the people that lie cheat and scheme on the top…
And the innocent people who were fooled about how it’s always greener on the other side…
Bound up in chains and shoved to the media as busted disgusted and cannot under any circumstances be trusted…
And maybe my vision is a little distorted…
But I don’t think I see white men and women except for Justin Bieber threatened with being deported
And the last time I checked real love isn’t sunshine and lollipops…
Not even rainbows or unicorns…
But instead hard work and determination…
Blood sweat and tears…
I try and patch up the rest of societies misfits…
Working on them trying to turn their monotone frowns into faces of joy…
Cause the last time I heard..?
No one will ever want a broken toy….
And that’s another thing society…
Are all of us just wind up figurines that are built to run out of the number of tics way before we get to the place our destiny calls us to be…?
Cause you keep twisting and contorting my back…
But I’m on hundred and ten percent sure I do not have a wind up key…
Oh and society,
The stereotype that people who wear all black and mope all day are a nuisance is a big fat lie…
We wear all black because we see the whole that u plan to bury us in…
And we mope all day because no matter what we do or what we say…
The inevitable truth is…
We knew it would always end this way…
That life a rigged game that we are cheated out of until our only option is to sell ourselves by it’s standards…
And throw what’s inside of us away…
Right like what we have to offer the world is garbage…
See, I am African American…
Or should I say black and proud…
Although I am the whitest black kid u will ever meet…
I scream to the roof tops I’m awkward and I know it!!!
And when I “turn up”..?
It looks like I’m having a muscle spasm laced with a seizure…
No wonder I’m so into the Harlem shake…
I translate the word rawr as I love you in dinosaur…
And I can drink a 2 liter in 19.5 seconds…
But let’s face it…
Cause obviously there’s no escaping it…
And there’s no point in faking it…
Because that will just end up in me throwing it down a break it…
Yes I am Jordan Isaiah Mitchell…
And I know for sure…
That I am weird…

I used to think I was different
special
weird
but I'm not
I read and paint
I sew and write poetry
I look after little kids
and I love
I'm a gay 15 year old with a girlfriend
I watch anime and read fanfic
I roleplay and cosplay
but so do my friends I am just like them
I'm not different
I am a cookie cutter
just like everybody else
and after telling myself I was weird for 15 years
its hard to be normal
I don't know what to do
I want to be different
but I'm not

Her chapped lips, and round hips,
Her beautiful nose and cheeks of rose..

Her flawless complexion,
Her intelligent reaction..

She was a true beautiful person,
From her appearance and mind,
Still I couldn't confess my love for her,
Since just from the eyes, she was blind...