Why am I so different?
Is it because:
I like to read
Instead of play
I like to write
Instead of flirt
I like to laugh
Instead of being something
I’m not.

Why do they make fun of me?
Is it because:
I’m not afraid of being myself
I stand up for what I believe in
I am opinionated?

All of these whys
Revolve in a circular pattern
Round and round in my head.

But among those whys
Lies an answer
In the very depths of my brain
Buried deep within my heart.

That the reason why
I like to read
I like to write
I like to laugh
I’m not afraid of being myself

Is because I want to make a difference in this world.
And the people who make a difference
Are those who are different.