Eyes glued to my unlaced shoes,
Fingers picking at the skin I lose.
Friendly chatter pierces and flows,
Through the walls where my silence grows.

I think to myself — why couldn’t I be normal?

As I step out, a thousand glares pierce through me,
Seeping into my soul, my mind, my very being.
Screeching rejection and denial of my existence,
All too familiar, yet I shiver in unwilling perseverance.

I think to myself — why couldn’t I be normal?

My feet tap on the linoleum floor,
Eyes adjusting to lights that roar.
Fists clench tight at sudden sounds,
Hair ripped out as overstimulation surrounds.

People think to themselves — why couldn’t she just be normal?

A shift in routine rewires my brain,
Lingering fears of my portrayal as disdain.
Just another “quirk” to break a beloved bond,
Maybe I’ll hide who I am so we can move on.

I think to myself — maybe I’ll try to be normal

The longer I mask, the more I ache,
From every movement I dread to fake.
It doesn’t matter how I feel,
I work, I serve, to turn the wheel.

I think to myself — how do I even be normal?

A promise made, a vow—unbelievably grand
Until tanks and footsteps disturb the land
Handshakes firm, papers signed
Yet missiles and bullets still lag behind

Peace is non-transferable, war is our own,
Limited liability for the lives that we've blown
For threat prevention, we may reinforce,
Bombs will drop without a hint of remorse

When the world begins to ask
We say we honored it, our assured task
A truce! A pause! A peaceful day!
We’ll bomb them all by the end of May

We reserve the right to reverse the ceasefire
As bodies fall to the chorus of our choir
Diplomacy’s a practiced art—
Where ceasefires end before they start