People are complicated
And they hate weird.
The more I defined myself,
The less they understood me.
And they wanted her,
That they only knew.
The part I let them know.
A butterfly of many colours I was,
But all was ruled out by the fact that
I was a weirdo
They saw only the colours I let them see.
And the real colour I was,
The one I did not let anyone see
I showed them,
And they wanted nothing to do with it.
YOU ARE READING
I Will Find My Own Sky
PoetryA collection of poems 4th place in Kuru Family Awards. I discovered, They were normal, Way too normal. And there I was , Just a sad girl, Dying to unlearn being NORMAL.