Poem
Marching through life,
but labeled as weird,
Silent my steps,
yet my mind’s a battlefield.
Lessons in camouflage,
not from wars of old,
In the mind's trenches,
stories quietly unfold.
They called me "friend"
while branding me strange,
My thoughts a scramble,
a language deranged.
Filtered words,
like a Sergeant with commands,
Yet my inner voice wonders,
can I withstand?
Tired of being
the Xoldier who never breaks,
The Commander whose
own foundation shakes.
Rappelling through shadows,
I camo the pain,
Beneath this smile
lies an emotional terrain.
Life is a battlefield,
where joy and sorrow entwine,
Armor of smiles hides
a loneliness I can’t define.
Camouflaged by happiness,
still a Xoldier undone,
Weirdness my ally,
in the battles never won.
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