Written today. Heck yeah on that uploading

I have some serious issues or something...





It's not just being different

It's being wrong

Like I'm something bad

Or twisted

Or deformed

Like the child crawling the streets

Legs gone, eyes red

Crying to those that don't hear

Don't want to

Never will

And the world looks at that child

Shrieks in disgust

Tucks it's hands back

And keeps walking

(Then goes home,

And claims to be a:

"Good Christian, thank you very much.")

So it's not that being different bothers me

It's the wrongness of my existence

That makes them look and keep walking

I smile, but I cry