Who art thou, that dares to draw the line

Between what is right and what is merely rare?

What fragile mind hath deemed it so divine

To judge another's form or how they bear?

I say... no more.

For I have seen the quiet ones made small,

Their truths reduced to whispers in the hall;

I have felt the weight of watchful, judging eyes,

And worn a self the world could recognise.

But no more.

For I am not thy mould, nor thy design,

Not carved to fit within thy neat decree;

I am a thing unbound, undefined,

And I have learned there is a power in me.

In difference: there is fire.

In variance: there is grace.

In every soul they bid erase,

There burns a light they can't replace.

Let them speak!

Let them stare!

Let them falter in despair

At all the ways we do not bend.

We were not made for them.

So stand.

Unsoftened by their narrow sight,

Unhidden in thy truest light;

Unashamed of form or name,

For thou wert never

To be the same.

Written by me. M.R.

I am very inspired by Elizabeth Barrett Browning if you can't tell lol.