Different

I've always been a different one,

The one who points an empty gun.

Pointing out the random things,

Wondering how our freedom rings.

I ask all the weird questions.

Not the normal who or why,

But where did they get it,

Did it just come out of their eyes?!

I think to hard,

And I have no issues.

I never cry,

And am almost never forced to lie.

Goodbyes I rarely have to make,

While others sit or lie awake,

Thinking their the only one with problems.

Well let me point out the unthought-of side,

Am I the only one without a cry?

I have no real tears or pain,

And my emotions are far from sane.

I'm just a loud, young kid,

One who may never grow up to be a mother.

And if I shall be,

I'll be like no other.

But others scream in sadness,

Or gripe in madness.

And I sit at home,

Feeling well no doubt.

And I'll ask myself,

Am I the only one without problems?

Apparently so,

Everyone is in the know,

So to keep me in check,

Bullies make my life heck.

They can't accept I feel better than they do,

And I am the only they can't relate too.

So my dark apparel sets them off,

Labeling me as depressing and Goth.

But no,

I'm just like no other.

I'm a happy, lunatic, slap happy, moron