You are an anomaly;
A nebula, the birth-place of light and wonder.
Your glow is widespread and beyond reach.
They will call you a rarity.
They will ask what makes you tick, as though you are the sum of mechanical parts and clockwise movement
They will long to trace their fingers across your body, like markings on a road map.
They will admire your peculiarities with palpable affection
Placing you on a pedestal without your consent
And you will reign as their goddess, until you ask for room to reach outward and stretch your fingers.
Then they’ll dispel you from sight while crying out abandonment,
Bite the hand that fed them and shame you for bleeding.
Once stardust, now pollution in their eyes.
Do not mistake their arrogance for accuracy,
Or confuse their opinion with the truth.
Don’t you dare dull your torch to make their candles appear bright.
You are not a riddle or an algorithm or an answer,
Not a source to be used or a problem to be fixed.
Your existence does not require their approval.
You are an anomaly
A rare occurrence in a world of the ordinary,
A masterpiece in your own right.
Latest posts by bneal89 (see all)
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