James Gale

There is a new anger in me.
It crept in slow,
scraping away the thin shame
that clung to me,
grinding disbelief to the bone.

The world’s lack of sentiment
toward anything different
sets me ablaze.

I burn now,
unyielding flames
forged from relentless despair.

The norm is a false crown,
wanted by the many,
adored as the dream.
Individuality fades
only shells remain.

Let each of us arrive
to our own normal:
uncaged, unnamed,
owing nothing
to anyone at all.

No longer fighting
the war without end
to fit in
with the human race.