Lost

(In spite of everything, this poem I’ll take up)
From the moment I wake up
To the midnight hour
All the others seem mean and sour

I know I’m different from all the rest
Sure--I’m not the best----
At anything, but just because I act different from you
Doesn’t mean you can be sour too

You see, I don’t see how others see
Like I don’t cower in fear when I notice a bee
I am not as others were
I do not fear death, that’s for sure

When I write it may be dark and dreary
But, when I write pretty, it only makes me weary
My life is different from yours
It seems to be filled with many tortures

My happiness I cannot bring
From a very wired string
I am not as hyper as you all
Try to make me and my face will fall

All I’ve ever liked or loved--it was by my own
So yes, you can call me sad and alone
But, now you know why my voice is filled with moans
And why I just might chill your bones