Some don't fit in the box,
Even the air pricks as they walk.
Their weirdness are just their own choices,
Attitude rises as they could rise their voices.
Rules are meant to cross,
Where conventions are gaily made to toss.
A mere coal could catch other's eyes,
Even in mid of grossy diamond dazes,
If it stands alone, with it's uniqueness
Despite of differences, dauntless of noises
That yells and calls you a freak,
Are often imbibed jealousy and fear to break
The prolonged bricks fortified over epoches,
Against which , perishes these unique voices and echoes.
~ Mercy
