Closed Doors

They call me odd, a step askew,

A puzzle piece they never knew.

I walk a road they dare not tread,

A path where whispers fill my head.

The price is steep—cold stares, closed doors,

Mocking laughs, abandoned shores.

Alone, I stand against the tide,

While sameness pulls the rest inside.

Yet, oh, the view from where I stand,

A world untouched by careful hands.

I see the hues they fear to wear,

I breathe the thoughts they wouldn’t dare.

For difference carves its mark with pain,

But leaves behind a golden vein.

And though the cost is sharp and true,

The upside is—I get to be me too.