Poem 1.

Poetry by Me

Poem 1.

I am from Mars. Everyone else is from Venus.

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They say think outside the box and that no idea is a bad idea.

You share your wandering thoughts and lingering contemplations, thinking that maybe somewhere amongst it all lies a diamond in the rough.

Then they chuckle and laugh off your ridiculous ponderings. Suddenly your, ‘out of the box’ and scrambled thoughts become the entertainment.

Your idea, proving to be the first bad idea to exist.

They say that originality is worth more than a copy, and that the sheep of the world aren’t the millionaires or the overly happy baker.

You harness your obscurities, quirks and unconventional ways because that’s what makes you original and that’s where your million dollar idea lies.

Then your quirks and obscurities become annoying and your unconventional ways become impractical and inconvenient.

You are left not with faith that someone will feature you in there art gallery, but instead disappearing and becoming a duplicate of those around you.

They say that you should be yourself and that you, you alone, you are good enough.

Then you lead by example, be yourself and feel unapologetically not afraid. Because you have been told, who you are is good enough. You accept others may not understand and they don’t.

But the pain comes when you feel like an alien from mars stuck on earth with a broken rocket ship surrounded by people speaking the same tongue but somehow not hearing a word you say.

They say that being unique is better than being perfect and that the mistakes you make are human.

You say your sorries, you begrudgingly accept your responsibility of fault feeling like you are being persecuted for being exactly what they told you to be.

Then they tell you that you’re making too many mistakes and that some mistakes can’t be and won’t be forgiven.

They say it over and over again. You demonstrate it time after time in assemblies at school. You watch the world become more accepting and people become more liberal to change.

Yet, you still feel like you’re looking at unconvinceable people staring at you through judgemental confused eyes.

They say that difference is celebrated.

But, here I am, feeling different.

And the feelings paired with it start with alone.

 

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