The Acrostic Feelings of True Colors

Malfunctions to society

Yield an important part of me

Tamper with what is

Raffish, yet it is what tis

Uncanny to all others

Enervate is what is worse

Condescending tones from those of trouble.

Open conversations from relatable struggle.

Lacklustre is a part of my current shell.

Obloquy from my friends.

Ramifications that seem to swell.

Sardonic comments that go to great lengths

So I decided I would give some context around what I have written and why it means something to me.

I would by no means call myself a strong poet or writer. What I would call myself is different. I've always felt different, everywhere I have been. I am the person who gets cut off in conversation, I am the person who gets given the camera for a 'group photo', I am the person who would rather eat by himself than be around people who don't want him around, I am the person I have grown into. I am me, and sometimes that is not what people want in this world. This poem was written around the fact I have not been able to find my place in this world yet. I say yet because I believe we live in a time in our lives where I should feel comfortable but I don't.

My whole life something has set me apart but I still don't know what that is. I don't think the same as others, I don't work the same, I feel that I don't fit in with others. I've now accepted that fact. I am who I am, but I still don't know who I am meant to be.