I am an enigma.
I am a realist, a perfectionist, a bold social stigma
Disapproved for my disapproval of the social norms
Often found within the most social forms.
People gather to talk about the status quo,
Who's doing what, where, when, with who, and you know,
I say so? And they look with this face, this face of "excuse me?"
I look back unphased, (or not) I make them believe me.
Inside I am stung, I'm hurt, I'm astounded
That within a society of "speak your mind" I am hounded
For speaking my mind, my thoughts, and even my beliefs,
Why say speak? When I do, you all yell back "Please,
"Please stop being so damn pessimistic,
We don't care," but I say "It's completely simplistic.
"You need to understand I'm being realistic,
You all live in this world that you believe is idealistic
I need to see things from a bigger perspective,
I see each individual from a view of objective.
All you care about is their attitude or their ideals,
If they're not like you, then their opinions aren't real."
I am a human, I have feelings, I have thoughts.
Feeling unwanted, thinking, "When did I get lost?"
Lost from my uniqueness, my right brain has gone,
Left brain is here, everything has been drawn
Back inside into darkness, I can't reveal
All the thoughts I have, wait, are they even real?
Real to myself? To the world? To my "friends"?
Everything in my mind often blends
Into, "Can I say this? Will they hate me for that?"
And then I remember, "Hey, if they want to laugh at
Me, I will not mind. You know why?
I am an enigma, and they are blind.