who am I?
what am I doing here, you ask?
If I had an answer
then I wouldn't be in this position;
arms crossed against my chest,
bound hand and foot.
An animal you say?
then I wouldn't feel such overwhelming pain.
Crazy and a non-conformist
they label me.
But then again,
who are they?
Label me at will,
but who are you to judge?
Have you experienced my experiences?
Can you re-live my strife?
A brute, you question?
No, for if so then what is my life?
A padded cell you've chosen for me.
a room with no metal corners or cement walls.
But do I really deserve to be here?
Who's to say at all?
You may pick me up;
you may carry me away,
but I know that the only reason for your actions
is that I can't fit tidily in your idea of what should be.
and since there was already so many of you
I decided to be me.