People have always made fun of me,
probably still do in their social cliques.
They speak of how I'm oblique,
that my words sound pretentious,
or that I'm lost in space.
Labelled a freak, a weirdo, a geek.
A million other names... Never Kyle.
But you missed the part
where I'm the one that is unique,
whilst you mirror a room
of solitary hollow views.
I'm weird, it's true. Quirky, awkward.
I stumble over things others say with ease.
Tripping over a flurry of words,
but finding them soft to land within,
a furry blanket of safety.
My trains may be delayed, my drivers on strike,
but I'll stand proud for my life is mine.
I struggle with the easy, yet pile on
the hard just to pass the days.
Yet you question my sanity?
As if you are not the insane one
following the same blocked-off pathways.
It's more sane to live happy
than perpetually grinding your teeth
at perceived threats to your manliness,
or the way that I decide to live.
I take those words spoken behind my back,
arrows sharpened, ready to attack,
and throw them back with precision and tact.
I have a galaxy of ideas, a headful
of unmapped dreams. A heart full
of uncharted rivers, formed from tears
hidden in streams. The waves I've ridden
rage with more pain than you could ever
begin to understand. But I withstood it all.
Never bowing to the waters - I accepted them in.
In your circled whispers, you raise a giggle.
But I create universes, and in them all,
I laugh aloud.
So laugh. I'll laugh back.
Your attacks lack finesse.
In my defence, when life replays my story,
I'll see that through it all
I held onto my smile. I didn't sit on the fence,
repeating a mantra of hate.
I spoke instead of the love flowing in my veins.
Call me anything. I don't care.
I wear my skin with pride,
love myself inside out.
No amount of snide comments
will dampen my flood on this world.
I'll keep going the extra mile
even when my feet are torn shreds.
When my dreams get worn thin,
I'll never give in. I'll just find a new pathway
to begin the trek again.
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