There’s no such thing as normal
For
we’re each of us unique,
From
our styles – blasé or formal –
To
our hairdos or physique.
What
we read or eat or order,
Where
we visit, shop or sleep,
If
we’ve come from ‘cross a border
Or
tend flowers or raise sheep…
We
are like no other being
For,
no matter what we’re taught,
We
all have a way of seeing
Tailored
to the truths we’ve brought.
All
our daily interactions,
Each
experience we know,
Either
blinds us with distractions
Or
directs us where to go.
Yet
the slights and hurts assemble
And
accumulate as well,
Meshed
with joys ‘til we resemble
All
that lives within our shell.
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