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Alexandra

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

11 poems·Since March 2013
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Different

May 20, 2013
They laugh because I'm different, hit because I'm not like them. They glare because they're frightened of what they don't understand. My thoughts are unfamiliar, my actions undefined, but only to those bigots and their small, pretentious minds. There's a whole wide world of people some like me and some like them, but that seems to be a concept that they can't comprehend. They can't see past this moment. They don't get that life moves on. To them it seems there's only now and right now who I am is wrong.
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