Burned Leaves. Poem by Linda ErikssonBique

Like aleaf, We are not the same.
People like to judge, the one that don't think sane.

While everyone hangs out and laughs.
I write down my deepest thoughts, of the ones who laugh.

Call me what ever you please.
It wont hurt me the least.

I'll smile and say thank you.
And probably mean it too.

The world in my eyes, is a miracle, amazing with secrets to keep.
But why are we destroying it, and sweeping the lies under our seats.

Not speaking a word about it until it's too late.
These are the questions that keep me up so late.