My struggle to be like everyone else was like…
Being a string less guitar
Useless.
I was hoping to make a sound, or even a difference.
But in reality, I thought I was missing something that made me functional.
My struggle to be like everyone else was like…
Being a mannequin.
Everyone knew I was not like them
I stood still, praying that people would think I was real.
But in reality, I was just posing for appearance.
My struggle to be like everyone else was like…
Being school on Saturday morning.
Classless.
I was hoping some will stay when I came about.
But in reality, no one really wanted to be there.
My struggle to be like everyone else is like…
Manufacturing bricks.
Only as hard as I make it.
I’ve spent all my time trying to find a perfect shape, size, weight.
But in reality, every shape, size, and weight has a purpose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem