Born To Be Different Poem by Mark Heathcote

I was born to be different.
I don't follow the tide.
The sea means nothing to me.
See, I've offended just about everyone I've ever met.
And it's not because I pose a threat.
It's just that I don't care to be spun a web.
I don't care to dangle on a thread.
And I hope one day I get fed.
I was born with nothing.
And nothing at the end of the day-
will be what is left.


I was born to be different.
I don't follow the tide.
The sea means nothing to me.
You can bind and gag me.
But I won't kiss your arse.
Or polish your shoes.
It's not because I'm a bad arse.
It's just that I don't care if I starve.
So don't open any doors for me.
Because I've never had a helping hand.
And I don't care to grovel or be advanced.
Or eternally humble,
I don't give a fig about what principle you stand on.
How did you get so loud?
Or what senator cut you a bona fide deal?

I was born to be different.
I don't follow the tide.
The sea means nothing to me.
Blackbird tarry my soul home-
To the stars, the holly leaves in their loam.
Prickly as ever, that's where I'm to be enthroned-
With a crown of oxidised chrome
Pitted like an antique mirror, reflecting
The face of a clown who always cried alone
He poured his heart out but always kept
Just a little something back-in-store,
Truly, he was quite an individual.
I didn't have time to feel sore.
Took his final bow on the stage,
People swore he was a poet, a prophet, or even a sage.

But he swore to be me.
He was born to be different.
He didn't follow the tide.
The sea meant nothing to him.
He was the moon, the stars, and the setting sun.
Born to be different, others didn't know where to begin.
He was an individual, just him, with nothing disguised or hidden.
A bona fide third party with no fancy dress or mask
Hey there, Megalomaniac, I didn't mean to blow out your candle.
Hey, there quack, I'm not scared of suicide; that's all I know.
Hey there, sleazebag, you're like an ancient disease.
Don't you come around here anymore, please?

He was an individual, just him, with nothing disguised or hidden.
He was an individual, just him, with nothing disguised or hidden.
But he just swore to be me.
He was born to be different.
He didn't follow the tide.
The sea meant nothing to him.
He was the moon, the stars, and the setting sun.
Born to be different, others didn't know where to begin.
A phoenix in its struggle, stuck in the middle-
Fighting, inferno, flames without so much as a scuffle.
Prickly as ever, about to be enthroned-
With a crown of oxidised chrome.
Pitted like an antique mirror, reflecting
Every single bone ever to walk here alone and fly away.