Different me
Honestly, I don't care what people think.
Thay gaze upon me with envious eyes bleeding with confusion, and I just
smile.
Knowing that they don't understand me.
Constantly, they secretly ponder all of the "different" things
that I do. My walk. My talk. The ecelectic music I vibe too....
They call me "different". Experience is within me and I yearn to
taste the experience, while jumping off the cliff of endless possibilities,
I await for the splash of whatever comes my way. Free-spirited they call
me...and I am. A boisterous butterfly soaring high,Boasting the idea of
symbolic change. An actress perfoming on the Broadway of existence...they
find it a bit intimidating I know...and I am considered
"different". Surrendering is an option. Masking my true identity
to please the lives of others could be my style. I would rather exchange
sweet kisses with an anacoda then become half the person they want me to be.
For denying my freedom gives birth to a clone of them. So let me be
different
 
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