I am an overcomer;
Not to be repressively ignored,
Regretfully the flower on the windowsill
That would never bloom again hidden in darkness.
I will not be labeled that tragedy,
Unexplained and easily forgotten,
A repeated reoccurrence, nothing special
Allowed to live in the boxes granted to me, even lucky to be granted
Title opportunities, in unreadable prints, imaginary.
I will not be blamed
For painting the world white and red and dull purple,
Dropping yellow on the paths walked
And seeking only the black lines drawn;
For believing the world is flat
A flat field only holding mountains
Constantly leveled with the judgment in a stranger’s eyes
Another name to be attached to long list of stats.
Yet I am not who you say I am, I am different!
I am an overcomer.