I am a typical and misunderstood.
I wonder why I feel so different.
I hear my own endless criticisms in my head.
I see in the mirror, a dreamer trying to be herself.
I want to be known and seen.
I am atypical and misunderstood.

I pretend to be someone I am not.
I feel trapped beneath water, struggling to breathe.
I touch my face, feeling the imperfections beneath my fingertips.
I worry about the world’s judgment upon me.
I cry about being invisible.
I am atypical and misunderstood.

I understand that everyone fights for themselves.
I say that life is stress-fully unfair.
I dream to fly away from reality.
I try to stand out in a crowd of yearning people.
I hope to make a difference in the world.
I am atypical and misunderstood.