God, why can't I be normal?
Why can't I be like everyone else?
I'm not popular. Nor am I handsome.
I don't have a girlfriend or ever have been.
in love before. I don't have a successful
career. And I don't appeal to many people.
Not to be ungrateful or anything.
I wish I was treated fairly.
I wish to finally be in love.
I wish to be more appreciative.
I wish to be more normal.
Why do you cry at small stuff?
How can you do this common thing so rough?
Stay silent everything is not to be told,
You just learn to stay bold.
Isn't it unfair that we have to pretend to be normal?
It's not always that we have to look formal.
Sometimes we have to show the side that is hidden,
Is keeping everything in heart somewhere written.
It's okay to burst out into tears ,
Don't ever feel the pressure by your peers.
It's okay to mistakenly sometimes do wrong task,
It shows your courage to properly ask.
Then why do we ask everybody to be normal and pretend to be glad?
Showing sadness is not at all bad,
It's a common attribute for a human that is earned,
Being NORMAL is a lie that we have always learnt.
I’m like ice cream flavors tangled up.
Again, get up to read the book, jolted.
But nothing got read like nothing got nothinged.
Boohoo.
Forever, howling like spray paint in my head.
When I can’t sleep?
It trickles.
It’s haha!
When I can’t “goodbye,” burnt up.
The buttery feeling becomes a normal silence.
When I can’t sleep?
That’s as typical as mint chocolate chip ice cream trapped in pages of journaling.
And journaling I do.
Normal silence.
That’s not what I’m like.
The Normal sat with hands in lap,
A folded map, a steady pulse,
The world a grid, a factual trap,
Where truth is plain and never false.
"The world," it said, "is stone and lime,
A clockwork heart that keeps the time."
The Abnormal paced the jagged edge,
With eyes like broken stained-glass panes,
A crow upon a crumbling ledge,
With lightning dancing in its veins.
"The world," it hissed, "is silk and smoke,
A cosmic, cruel, and gorgeous joke."
Note: The boundary between the "sane" and the "unbalanced" is often just a matter of which way the telescope is pointed. In this poem, the two sides of the psyche sit on a ridge, debating the physics and the phantoms of a distant solar system.
I’m normal today.
I have eyes like Christmas stockings.
I could have spun around like lipstick.
Or like worms falling out of the ground.
I’m normal today.
So comfortable like a clarinet.
A spare pencil that hops all over.
Guitar speak and rambling hot peppers.
I’m normal today.
Like playing the kitchen sink.
I’m normal today.
If someone is normal, the world can be a skyscraper.
I’m a skyscraper, puzzled, rambling, grumbling person.
With eyes falling out of the ground.
When you’re normal, once in a while?
Maybe it’s just a fallen down sign.
With gripping fingers holding an invisible torch.
Glazed over like a pogo stick.
I drove my car to work today.
There was nothing anyone could do about my creaky office chair.
There was normal, there was nothing.
I’m still randomly crying, tomorrow is too.
I was normal all day at work.
Came home to the kitchen, living room, bedroom. Undone.
who is to say it was extreme madness?
it might not be mad or extreme
in our family it would be normal behavior
we wisely keep this to ourselves
afraid there will be future witch trials
There is a voice that wakes before the sun,
Not loud, not proud, but patient as the dew;
It does not shout like crowds that bruise the air,
It speaks in pauses—asking what is true.
It tells you when to stop before the fall,
When something bright is wrong though wrapped in gold;
It asks you to be gentle with your strength,
And brave enough to leave what makes you cold.
The voice does not command you how to live,
It does not flatter, threaten, beg, or lie;
It will not build a throne out of your fear,
Nor promise heaven just to pass you by.
It does not curse the world for being hard,
Nor teach your hands the pleasure of the blow;
It does not silence tears that need to come,
Nor rush the heart where it is not ready to go.
It matters because silence can be taught,
And quiet minds can be trained to only obey;
A voiceless soul will take the shape of chains
And call it peace at the end of the day.
But one small voice—unbought, unowned, awake—
Can stand against a thousand marching drums;
It matters, yes, because it keeps you yours,
Even when the dark insists you are none.
There is normal heatlty living.' There is sub-standard and full of i'lls, then a new
Term
Was tacked up in 2020 by some snake oil
Selling shills' thinking now in hindsight.?
That gets my blood to chill.' New-normal.?
Was the term rolled out, by those drainstream
Media types, simpering and a'whimpering
All white teeth; slimline suits.and hype.'
Yet all around an (un-normal!) reigned
That no one it seemed could name.? In
Thinking now, the word they coined was
A mirror to the lies deciet and pain.' Much
Was false, and socially un-acceptable in
The main.' Yet eased into a closure? we saw small buisnesses shut, there was a
Waryness of your neighbour, while the
Governance exuded trust.' Yes i know it
Was un-normal, this had never been done
Before..Because it would cause devestation to free living, and independant buisness ' now thats for sure.'
Once upon a time..' we had (first, second,
Third, worlds, quite dis-aligned..' And for a time hegemony lookèd sort'a fine.' Now with the rush of
Every type of tech.' Its update and dump the wreck.' No more the economic climb
We shall inherit some 'nerd world.. Divine?'
Hush, Daddy's sleeping,
we don't want him to wake.
Let Mommy relax and
have a little break.
It's okay, sweetie,
don't look so sad.
No, Mommy's eye
doesn't hurt bad.
Go on outside
and get some fresh air.
Later on we'll take
a drive somewhere.
No, honey, you didn't
do anything wrong;
now go on and play,
but don't be too long.
You know daddy
didn't mean to do it.
He just gets mad;
we all go through it.
When you grow up,
you'll see what I mean.
It's really not
as bad as it seems.
I promise
when daddy wakes up,
he'll feel bad
and we'll make up.
And as far as
anyone can see,
we're a normal
happy family.
Rarity Is Rare.
Inspiration,
AWARENESS,
Self-Comprehesion!
Very Uncommon...
...
EVEN
Life Itself
Is A Stranger
Creation Of Light!
-----
Complex Chemistry,
Another Miracle:
Choice!
***
WHAT?
Practically
Impossible.
Free Will:
Arguably
Abnormal
Enough
To Question
Its Actual
Existence!
Under
Heated
Debate.
!!!
Randomness?
Common Or Rare...
Roll The Dice...
???
Death Is More
Common:
Very Normal.
Non-life.
Empty Space,
Nothingness:
Super Normal.
-Gray Squirrel
07-06-2025
My body only realizes what eyes see clearly...soul feels deepy
Nellie was a star,
Only one shining;
Ray of sky light.
Mountaintop experience -
Alas, she was
Lonely at the pinnacle.
Pointed, sharp, stabbing her heart.
Everyone looked up, “Yes, Ma’am.”
Once she made her way down icy paths,
Plowing her way toward the valley;
Leaving for anonymity. No one knew her.
Everyone loved her. She built a home there.
The sky held up, still.
The breeze blew on cue.
The cloud stuck glued on blue.
The bills came in mail.
The toast was burned.
The eggs had runny whites.
The plants outside died.
I missed the alarm.
Kissed my beau.
Kicked the cat.
Spat on the mat.
Waved goodbye,
off to work.
The day performed its ritual
rehearsed to a tee,
to be an entirely normal fit
in every way, every day.
Heard on the news:
“Nothing unusual today, it's just normal."
So today is yesterday.
Yesterday is today.
Perhaps we need a new script writer?
For Hello! Ah So!
Every day is different!
You just dressed it up in
the same thoughts,
the same clothes,
the same throws,
the same tweaks and twerps,
with same cast and plot
on repeat, repeat, repeat,
to make it fit just so,
Ah So!, as entirely normal.
A man once asked me,
in the middle of a drifting conversation,
“How long do you sleep in a day—
if you ever sleep at all?”
I looked at him,
searching for a polite reply
but found none that fit the weight of his question.
So I simply said,
“I do sleep—
just like any normal soul.”
But deep inside,
I wondered—
what does normal sleep even feel like
to a restless mind?
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