I’m Sorry I Don’t Fit In

Everywhere I look,
I’m different.
In every way I know,
I’m different.
I don’t crave uniformity,
but I don’t like, that
I’m different.
School.
A place where confidence
is the currency. Without it,
you get nowhere.
Home.
A dictatorship in which opinions,
and ideas of independence, are quashed.
Life.
Something which requires a personality
and support to survive.
I have nothing that is expected of me in the
various scenes of my life.
I am the odd piece,
in the charity shop jigsaw puzzle.
I am the blackened banana,
in a fresh and healthy bunch.
I will always be the ugly duckling,
in a pond full of swans.
I’m sorry I’m not what you’d like me to be.
I’m sorry I can’t be what you’d like me to be.
But more than that,
I’m sorry I don’t fit in.