black sheep

Black Sheep

Who am I?
I am the black sheep,
The one that doesn’t fit in,
Unique,
Different.

I am the one that is,
Is the odd one out,
The one that doesn’t fit in,
The one unlike the rest.

I’ve defined myself as such,
For so long,
That it has been apart of my being,
My existence,
But, is it really me?!
Is it who I am?!

The answer is,
Yes.
One hundred percent.
I am the black sheep,
The odd one out,
The one different of the rest,
The one distinct from it’s pack.
I am the black sheep.

For not only do I see it,
I feel it.
Even reminded of it.

For I walk the path less traveled,
The path which leads to greater knowledge,
But,
This path comes at a cost,
One of judgment,
Criticism,
One of neglect,
Which lasts longer than a day,
For it lasts a life time.

For once you are marked,
You consistently have to prove yourself,
Over and over,
Time and time again.

Yet, none of it matters,
For you are the black sheep,
The one notorious for straying from the pack,
Not abiding by the rules,
Nor conforming to the standards,
For you are who you are.
The one that doesn’t fit in,
The one that doesn’t abide by the standard.

For you accept the moral,
But reject the conformity.
Disregard the rules,
Ignore the standards.

For you just live.
Live as you are.
Happy,
Free,
Solice.

But,
That is the problem,
For you have to endure,
Endure that which has been endured by the whole,
And, then some.
For you can’t live as you are,
Happy and grateful,
You must live as the pack,
Miserable and entitled.

But, guess what?
It’s not me,
It’s not who I am.
Judge me for it,
Criticize me for it,
Shame me for it.

Fuck it,
I am the black sheep.
The different one,
The odd one out,
I own it,
Accept it,
Forever proving myself.
Because,
It is who I am,
The Black Sheep.

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