Different

I watch as they wander off
in groups of threes and fours,
talking about mundane things
like the latest football scores.

I watch from the sidelines,
a substitute again,
they think that I can’t play
that I’m not as good as them.

I watch as they draw pictures
with colours red and blue,
I stare in awe, I wish and think,
why am I not as good as you?

I was born to be different,
an outcast in a world,
where everybody does the same things,
but why should I?

Maybe I’m proud to be different,
not a Neanderthal thug like them,
I don’t have to be good at what they do,
I can perfect my own gems.