They built their world with edges tight,
where pieces click and wrong feels right.
I tried to slot into the frame,
But I bent my corners, lost my name.
A quiet hue, a different bend,
The kind that doesn’t want to blend.
Not broken—just a shape unknown,
a puzzle piece carved on its own.
I watched their picture form and gleam,
while holding onto my dream.
A scattered sky, a rebel tide
I find the beauty where they hide.
No box contains the whole of me,
No label holds what I could be.
They may not know the space I fill
But still I fit, and always will.
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Author:
Drew Lewis (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 15th, 2025 19:03
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Priya Tomar
Offline)
Comments3
A tough puzzle DLewis and the first thing that came to mind was nature. But then I would guess it would not be that easy. Well done
Thank you.
You are very welcome
A sense of trying to bend to fit into the shape that is needed to be excepted, nicely expressed and written
Thank you.
You are very welcome
I identify with the shrink from conformity - know it well.
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