from the cradle to the graveside of every ambulated better

i know i am different
doesn’t work well in a world where different is always wrong

i am perfectly capable of seeing how i am not like others

but i also know the ellipse
the tangent
of gradual change

survival a motivation none escape
i remember entering the mind
that believes in death

a finality to every being
and the one thing i noted
before fleeing for my sanity
was that believing in death
leads to the loss of respect for other lives

… it breeds selfishness

whereas even a dreamed continuance
culminates in compassion?

it can
not an either or

i don’t think those that believe in death
can escape selfishness

but are all who appear selfish
too aware of their pending demise?
that i can’t know

only thing that was made plain
was that those who firmly embrace their mortality
do not only see death as their passing
but as the passing of the world
because they will no longer experience it

in some ways, believing in death is not believing in death

for death is not dismissed, simply transferred
to the understanding that all regenerates
that pattern and cycle exist

i know i am different
but will another exist who is exactly
like me? probably.

and am i not then, alive again?
part of not being selfish
is knowing you are not so different

therefore i mourn
to the pictures of characteristics
long passed away
i resurrect them

or i mourn and leave them dead

completely entering other minds is insanity
don’t get me wrong

sometimes truth outweighs self-preservation

i know i am different
but was given a body that already
stood differently, above the crowds
i was teased long before
i learned to build a self-awareness
apart from likeness … i still remember the hurt

different is wrong
different is not fitting the mold
the molds that form every tombstone…
crying in straighter lines to the distance

to the unperceived

i found out knowing you will die
makes you a bigger ass

so i prefer dreams that capture me into
the grinding mill of earth herself

the days and nights of redemption spelling
one more try

if i am perfect, what can i be tomorrow?

so i hoard my imperfections
savor them…

i am different in the face of every death i ever viewed
in the face of every wrong doing
in the light of every good-grouping
i am different

and so i see beyond
to where all are the same

to how souls have limits
and motivations have lies
while manipulations contain more truths, and
more truths about the manipulator

i have been given time
can make one minute a day
speed the clock of my own thoughts….

i am different
we put the different animals in a zoo

need to think about that
at some point

what are you teaching?
other than that cruelty is common?

so many things
to wax and wane over implications
the teacher always teaches how to teach
, first

the leader must have followers
and bad leaders must have many followers

a born leader is not always a good leader

somewhere in that is humility
somewhere at the heart is the realization
that life eternal
is life that continues after you yourself are gone difference

being different
often means to most people
that you are wrong

but to survival
it means changing the tides
from different to ordinary

now many women see above the crowd
with heights greater than my own
we were not shamed to extinction

life goes on
there are many like me

ever changing
the difference on the inside

the human creature with their bilateral wit
comparing one half of themselves
to the other half
of themselves…

oh i laugh! at the doctors
that compare a bump on one side
with the other limb
to see if it is “normal”

don’t they have any knowledge?

of what should or should not be there
ask that matters is that it is balanced

…. trapped within concept

i do not walk around with a fear of death
the lack of time
would have me careless
and less caring

i am different
if you tell me i have a savior
i will ask you how i was lost
when lost is where you find yourself
on different roads
that need exploring
i seek wisdom
i always sought wisdom
sometimes i think that makes me the dumbest of all

i know i’m different
i don’t know that i’m better
i have the right to exist

i look at the pictures
the faces that have long been eliminated
the features that no longer
show in any gene pool

a family in poverty
in a sod house
standing children gripping their parents fiercely…
i know their like no longer walk this earth

by man and his industrial revolution
i have very little tolerance
three damage far too great
those are the deaths i mourn

there are many like me
i will continue on

not so different
we merge and connect

theirs got pushed out
we all lost a little bit of ourselves… i
would have liked to have known that family
i hope i would not have scorned
their difference

it is only a dream
a dream in the belief of death
the yearning to understand…

returning to every grave
quietly whispering…

“where did they all go?”


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