They call us freaks in a world of norm.
We make our own way through.
We are not freaks, just have different tweaks.
They are the freaks, not me and you.
We dress in different outfits.
We talk a different way.
They call us freaks, rednecks, or goths.
But, who cares what they say.
As long as we know who we are,
There words are small as fleas.
When they bump in and knock us down,
Just say, "Excuse me, please."
If we ignore all there insults,
eventually, they'll quit.
They'll fall down to where they belong.
In power you will sit.
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