We can be the outcasts, the bizarre,
the ones that stand apart,
and yet still cast the stones,
that wound another’s heart.
Normal — the pursued standard,
that peaks and dips over time,
so many define themselves,
by the spinning social dial.
Overly concerned with our appearance,
with how we are perceived,
we lift ourselves with words,
thinking the proximate are deceived.
Chipping at characters out of earshot,
thinking barren knowledge carries value,
gossip becomes the currency,
with which we measure our worth.
Drivel laced with bigotry,
used as humor to entertain,
displays nothing except an ignorance,
dealt without remorse by the vain.
Casting nets of judgement,
cloaking others with their shame,
contributes to disconnect, keeping us separated,
rather than embracing we’re the same.
The irony is transparent,
acceptance the desire,
within, the heart smolders,
waiting to be set afire.
Discontent and compare,
is a path chosen in error,
accept differences with love,
rather than combat with terror.