A Mental Lament

I've noticed a pattern in the curious...

not knowing what to think when they read...

I'm not what one expects at all...

an ambiguous seed without tree.


Where did I come from?

From what mindset do I hale?

You look to my past...

seeing my draught...

perhaps you think, "thats all, I understand."


Do you dismiss a phantom too quickly?

perhaps one look isn't look enough...

I don't speak like my kind...

I left that behind..

well, sort of.


no wound turns to scar without show...

sure you could laser away...

but what t'would be the point?


Perhaps there are those that could profit...

to that profit I penned the things of my past...

a glimmer of hope for the lost...

for lost is my kind...

with few free to talk...

to understand what went on in their head.


Mine is the gift...

to that ignorance lift...

so I ventured not counting the cost...

yet cost there was in spades...

as I left that to the past...

I feel classed by what I have been.


True there are those...

who see what I have done...

knowing I'm more then my parts...

for their gracious eyes, ears I sore...

I'm not sure its enough though...

letting it pass.


To be thought of as an Aspie or freak...

knowing they'll say I protest too much...

I've proven a way out...

I am devout...

not subhuman but one a considered voice out loud.

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