Poem: the island

By: Linda M Crate


no man is an island they say,
but i am no man;
i find
myself at my most comfortable
when i am alone
there are no illusions and people pleasing
no having to deal with people
more plastic than
just the music and melody of nature
and my heart—
i can weave my words and sing my songs
there is no judgment, no one trying to
make me feel guilty for being me;
they always tell me that
i’m strange,
but if they’re normal
i am grateful i’ll never be anything like them;
will revel in my weird because we
all have a madness about us
it’s futile to try to hide this—
as they all try to hide their feathers i’m going
to let mine shine brighter than the sun
become a golden bird
shine brighter than the stars,
and i’ll wear my dreams and hopes proudly
on my sleeves;
no one will take my visions from me
because i’m done giving a
damn what they
i am me,
and if they don’t like it there’s always a door
no one said they have to be around me.


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