No one cares about what’s wrong.
No one cares about what happened.
No one cares about who did it.
All they wanna know is if you
can trust them so when you’re known they
can fit in.
Just to make you feel good
But they don’t know that they are
the problem, even though they should.
will forever be alone
because you don’t know what I’m thinking
My thoughts are blood, blood in
a tub and I’m slowly sinking.
I need an outsider
Someone that doesn’t fit in
or someone who doesn’t care to win
They come out of a group and they walk up to
me should I cut them off or should I
I cut myself I need help I want help
But I don’t want their help.
Just leave me alone
I may not be fine, but I
will be soon enough
I don’t need your help
I don’t want it either, I
manage fine alone
Just lay off already
you’ve done enough harm to me
by shutting me out
I am the wilted rose
I am the first drop of rain
Brought to life with prose
I am the root of your pain
I am born from hatred and petty choices
I am the water flooding you
Through negativity given voices
I tell you your chance at belonging is through
The flaws brought out in every way
The ship that each storm tosses
The single cloud on a perfect day
The pain that stems from losses
I am the heart that skips each beat
I walk alone, on any street
I am the cat in a canary’s nest
I am the weight atop your chest
I am the pain born from disinterest
I don’t belong, not with the rest
I walk the streets aimlessly,
I don’t know where to go.
My mind wanders painfully,
thinking why I’m alone.
I look for friends,
for someone to call,
but in a few moments,
my hopes start to fall.
The people I do find
just make me depressed
They look for ways
to quickly get away
-> and I do, too.
My young sister Phoebe
asked me a question:
“Name one thing that you like.”
It was then that I realized
I had no answer.
Hi, I’m Arnold and I’m an elephant. I am just like every other elephant in the center of South Africa. It’s just that I am brown. All the other elephants tease me and say I was born from my mom’s butthole. I’m supposed to be gray like all the others. At least, that’s what they all say. Wait, or are they supposed to be brown? No, because everyone is supposed to be gray because that’s what society says.
One day, I went home crying because all the elephants teased me. I didn’t quite make it home. I saw something brown from the corner of my eye. I walked over very carefully and there it was: a big brown potato. He was crying. So I sat down and gave him some company. He said, “All the other potatoes are pink!”
I said, “Don’t worry, all the other elephants are gray and I am brown.” I thought to myself and added, “You know what, Daniel? It’s okay to be different.”
And he said, “Yeah, Arnold. We are unique.”
It was a grey evening.
Fall was beginning and the coldness lurked around our
town like a big heavy blanket.
The trees shook while the wind blew my hair all
over my face. I looked up at those dark clouds
covering the sky. The moon peeked out from
behind one. It was so reliable. Always
there. Just as you left it.
Then, I saw it. That red balloon.
It was just floating. Going
so high, swaying in whatever
direction the wind took
it, but always going
up. Always, always, going
up. Getting higher, getting
more free, getting away.
That red balloon, flying
so free. I wish I could
be just like that red
balloon, swaying in the wind
but always going up — until
it popped. It would pop
on a tree branch in the
way, blocking its path
to freedom. Blocking it from going to where it felt it