During this month I was told that
My level of intellect was dangerous.
It truly makes sense because
My speech can't keep up with my thoughts and
My wandering daydreams control my nights as I lay still,
Begging my mind for rest.
I have no patience for my peers
Because I read them with confusion and shock,
All easily and quickly
Like ******, young adult fiction.
A boy once told me that my mind was a maze,
But he was wrong because
There are no dead ends.
There is no rest.
Every fully dissected thought,
every soul crushing emotion
Leads to the next.
And so, my mind won't let me rest.
I will never be at peace.
They say intellect is a gift,
But it is truly a curse
As I grow more restless
With each passing hour.