The Freaks

They call me schizophrenic

And say I talk to things that aren't there.

But they have been there since I can remember.

They talk to me and I listen.

But sometimes I wish they would just go away.

They call me pyro

And say I set fires for fun.

But it is a fascination with the beauty.

The colors and the movement are mesmerizing.

But that kind of beauty can be hard to control.

They call me cutter

And say I cut away my problems.

But it is the emotions that it releases.

I imagine the flowing blood is my anger and hurt.

But those feelings come back and the scars don't fade.

They call me bipolar

And say I can't control my emotions.

But it's not my fault.

My mind changes them to extremes and I freak out.

If I could stay in control I would.

They call me sadomasochistic

And say I find joy in my own and other people's pain.

But it is the high that I get

From the hurt and humiliation

That makes me crave it.

They call me psychotic

And say I have "lost touch" with reality.

But my reality seems real to me.

I am forced to live in the "real" world

When I liked mine much better.

They call us troubled

And try to treat us with tests and machines.

They all want to "fix" us and make us better.

They just want us to be the way society wants.

But that's not who we are...