She's different;
the way she bites her lip,
twiddles her thumb,
talks in squares.

The way her eyes
seem soft
yet penetrate beneath
your skin's surface,
just so she can remember
your name.

The way her cheeks crease,
and her mouth parts-
only halfway open,
yet reveals
double the luminosity.

Quite frankly,
her smile scares you.
You're wrapped
in fear.

And you cringe when asked
to shake hands with
Difference,
like a staircase
leading to
an abyss,
for you don't know
what's to be expected.

So there you go,
whisking through
a life
you call your own.

But if it is really
yours,
how do you know
what's to be
expected?

Most importantly,
why do you hate
Difference?
Why must you
cling to conformity
like an electric blanket?

Sure, it's warming you
now-
for the electricity
is working,
but what about when
the power goes out?

And even if the power
doesn't go out,
what will become
of the day
when someone
pulls the plug?