inclined to bow

rather than be hit in the mouth,

stay lower than their snout,

just to avoid the clout.

not because I’m weak,

but because I can sneak,

mask like a geek,

pretend to be meek.

once saw the potential,

crossed out with red pencil,

no demerit for this autistic,

they’re quiet and mystic.

“..more like devious and scientific..”

“..are they sure they understand it?.”

“..never mentions emotions..”

“..must be an incomplete person..”

I know of feelings,

I know of grief,

the longing for release,

from pain that won’t cease.

know suffering,

know causes uncomforting,

know cessation of pain,

never let it happen again.

“..Buddha said it better..”

“..you stick to your swearing..”

I’m real, I’m center,

I’m alone, still grieving.

it doesn’t end for me,

my mind always reminded,

of that which I’ve seen.

no distractions work,

I’ve fixated on the worst,

this is suffering of the lucky.

“..first rate problem..”

“..by first world people..”

history may write,

the winners are right,

“..it looks old and white..”

I may be white, advantaged and bright,

but my face bares marks,

my mind draws sparks,

the tory don’t like me,

but that’s a different story.

so now I bow,

to protect against the worst,

the rise of the deluded

monster in myself.

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString

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