and so you think,
that maybe you are insane,
maybe you are wrong.
maybe there was supposed to
be something in you
that isn't.
you begin to think that you are flawed,
in every sense of the word,
because you simply cannot
comprehend why
that girl is sad,
and why that boy is crying.
you cannot feel
what people call joy,
or what people scream anger.
you cannot feel the things
that you should,
the things that normal people do.
and maybe that's just it;
you are too far
from anything normal.
and no one is there
to tell you there is nothing
wrong.
there is no one
to tell you that this is just
your normal.
no one is there to tell you
that perhaps,
you are just different.
there is no one to tell you
that there is a word
for what you are.
so you live
in constant confusion,
in constant worry,
that you are alone,
that you are too wrong to be human.
YOU ARE READING
『ɴᴇғᴇʟɪʙᴀᴛᴀ』
Poetry˗ˏˋ nefelibata ˊˎ˗ (n.) ❝cloud walker; one who lives in the clouds of their own imagination or dreams, or one who does not obey the conventions of society, literature, or art❞ ❀poetry by the author (that isn't really poetry)
