Conform

I am told I must conform transform, become a part of this crowded norm. The way I carry myself, my hair, what I wear, must all exist to fit in. But I stand alone, free, I don't care if they don't love me! The only one I want to be is what God claims for me. Must I stand tall in stilettos, and fit into a slight size 3 just so my God accepts me? I must be thankful every day that I wake, because my God is not like anyone here, because he doesn't care on how I conform, or transform, to the physical norms. All God wants is a heart that is true, tries to bloom, and he'll move me on, no matter what the rest of the world thinks it can make me do.