The Plight of The Gifted

In shadows deep, where brilliance hides,
A mind aflame with unmarked strides,
Gifted souls in silence weep,
For dreams they sow, yet cannot reap.

Their thoughts are threads of woven light,
Ideas birthed in the quiet night,
Yet often bound by unseen chains,
Misunderstood, their endless pains.

Eyes like mirrors, dark and bright,
Reflect a world, both wrong and right,
They walk alone on razor’s edge,
Genius teetering on a ledge.

In whispers soft, their power drowns,
As mundane kings bestow their crowns,
Upon the minds that fit the mold,
Leaving brilliance in the cold.

The gifted heart, a restless storm,
With passion fierce, defies the norm,
Their words, a dance of fire and ice,
Yet often met with cold, hard vice.

In classrooms where their spirits dim,
Among the dull, where hopes are slim,
They harbor worlds within their veins,
A symphony of joys and pains.

Unyielding, though the path is steep,
Through nights of endless, dreamless sleep,
They forge ahead, despite the cost,
In seas of mediocrity, lost.

The world may shun, may turn away,
Blind to the dawn of a new day,
Where gifted minds could lead the way,
With visions sharp as a sun’s ray.

For in their plight, a flame persists,
A wild heart that still resists,
The cage of norms, the chains of doubt,
Their fire will not be snuffed out.

So let us see, and let us hear,
The gifted souls we hold so dear,
In their plight, a truth unfolds,
A tale of courage, yet untold.