Poetry of Branden Mora

We Aren't Special

It seems as if people only value their own ideals.
Not to which another would likely appeal.
But for some reason we seek to steal the pride-ship of others and forget how they feel.

Words of discomfort, they fly around.
Anxiety in the chest starts to pound.
Things begin to seem so loud even though there really isn't a sound.

I thrive for the day in which we can say that one way or another we will all be okay.