Lotus flower

Pitching tents in wrong places,
We become the odd faces.
Odd as we’re, we’re the face lift,
Clouds to darkness.

We’ve dared to stray from the norm,
Where the said we must conform
We chose the backdoor instead,
We were wrongly bred.

Be the skewed that becomes cute;
The new song on an old flute.
Walk away from blues into bliss.
Quiet doesn’t mean peace.

Thomas Tee2emm Bot