By Sherry From Canada
Are we normal?
Or is it they,
Who travel down the road of life,
A map of rules in their hand,
A certain code they follow,
The criteria of which we can never reach?
They point to their map,
Trying to show me the direction they are going,
The direction in which they say I should follow them.
I have my own map,
It's called chaos,
But I named it creativity,
No, Maybe I should call it energy,
Or, well I'm not really sure,
But it's certainly more interesting than the safe paths they wander.
My path winds,
Sometimes it brings me pain,
But most of the time I'm not even aware I'm following it.
I have a pill that gives my winding path some direction.
Now it is I who am leading,
Because I am stronger and smarter from having found my way this far without that so very safe and helpful map.
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