What are you like?
When I ask the simple question,
What comes to mind?
Do you think of yourself as a different kind of gal or guy?
When I expect more detail,
What is it that you say?
You know you’re unique and good in every sort of way.
When I ask for a specific thing,
What is it you point out?
Is it your hair, your figure, your brain or what? What is it all about?
When I want to know more about that thing,
What is it you’d like to express?
It is the size, the shape, the way it goes? Or maybe that yours is the best?
When I want to tell you about myself,
What is it you’d like to see here?
You see what’s on the outside yourself, but shall we go deeper?
When I tell you about what makes me 'me, '
What questions would you like to mention?
Am I crazy, or mad, am I telling the truth? Am I trying to get attention?
When I say I am what I am.
What do you have to say?
You know I’m different, everyone is. But see the point I’m trying to make?
In this world of which we live,
We like to believe we are accepted.
But especially since we’re different, our lives are always affected.
Yes, we’re all unique in small ways.
Yes, we have much to show.
But when someone’s life is too out of the ordinary, we fear them, and we let them know.
We’re told to show expression,
But when we do, we’re ashamed of ourselves.
“Be different, ” they say, but when we are, “Wow, that’s stupid, kill yourself.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem