What draws me
With squirming  heart
Leaning in
Staying apart?

I watch their ease
Relaxed confusion
Messy cross-talk
Care-less collusion

Words collide
Neurons firing
Thoughts descend
Exponentially tiring

The outer me
Has grown too thin
To meet the needs
Of fitting in

The inner me
Wants to be seen
But fears the same -
The risk too keen

They and l
Feel subtly  
The gulf between
Them and me

Dear 14 year old me
You were a strong and still strong
Human being
Who still has integrity
In her heart
The way I see
You had to
Hide you dreams
For survival and I don’t blame you on that
It would have been a horrific
Fate if you were still
Like a peacock 🦚
But not you can show your feathers
In a safe place
You don’t have to fear torture
If you want you can do 50 pull up if you want
Now show your brilliance and shine

I walk the streets
Looking for friends
I walk the streets in
The middle of the night
As I am in search of
Of friend life forms
But only to
Be met with hate
Only to be ridiculed
Only to be
Forced to fit in

How much abuse faced
By the divergent kids
Not even traced
Back to the inhuman grids

The thought of difference, frightening
Coursing by the lust for control
Deforming them by touching
The most vulnerable parts of the soul

The title vulnerable graffitied over valuable
Innovation of this generation unbound
Not differently-abled, but disabled
Abuse goes on, the kids are not found

Why do I feel so lonely?

I have so many friends that love me--
no, like me--
no, tolerate me,
And I'm completely surrounded by people
all the time.

My mind is convinced that nobody actually wants to be my friend.
Don't get me wrong, they're all really nice.
But it believes that they're doing so out of sympathy,
pity.
I'm not really an interesting person,
I always overanalyze situations so that I can say the right thing, but then I get it wrong anyways.
I mostly just make things awkward because I have no idea what I'm doing.
I'm kind of just annoying, really.
I wouldn't want to be friends with me either.

So why do I feel so lonely?
It's not because I'm alone,
It's not because of them,
It's because of me.

There's something wrong with me.

it takes me all day
to finish a bowl of soup-
it is cold and sits on my desk,
i chip away at it until it's gone

i feel like i'm holding
a pile of Lego bricks,
sorting them by color
instead of connecting their parts

my eyes wander to
only what interests me,
and i tend to move by
either branching or spiraling

my feet are running on hot pavement
and i'm exhausted,
by the time i look around,
i'm in the same place