Fell into bed, tired as could be
not from back-breaking work
but my Aspergian brain, you see
as an introvert, people tire me
and as courteous as I try to be
there are some days
where my pillow is all I want
I can walk for miles and miles
without breaking a sweat
but one too many people
and my nerves tingle
with an anxious fret
hard countenance
begins to melt from electric pain
and thoughts start racing
leaving dusty tread along these tracks
and all sensibilities desert in a manic frenzy
as if I were insane
there are some days
where I’ll do nothing but write
until I struggle to see anything
not lit with a computer back light
each word is a demon smitten
and each line is an apple bitten
in defiance of God and man
don’t eat this fruit, too late
I’m already on my third plate
I have no one, no one who knows these fears
I have no one, no one who sees these scars
they’re for me
and me alone
so I close myself up
inside my dusty home
like the Cancer that I am
I bury my head in the sand
and sleep away the days
until I’m ready
to walk that way
People feel like this for me too ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Creative Writing Reblogged.
LikeLike