Shut up,
They say.
Shut up, indeed.
I’m sorry, I can’t help it.
An urge that pushes deep within
Brings my voice outside of my head.
Mom says I shouldn’t call it my “Inner Voice,”
But, you know,
Who cares?
Will they look at me funny?
Or just sit there and glare?
No one minds,
When I show my eccentricity.
I should start out with “Hi,”
Or maybe “hello.”
But who has time for it?
Just get to the point.
So that’s what I do.
I don’t care if they’re confused,
They can just follow along.
Screaming and yelling,
You’d think I’d been beaten.
Well, I’m just yelling at them.
Them, on the screen,
Where they cannot hear,
But you can,
From twenty feet away.
I don’t get what they’re feeling,
But so what?
It’s not like they’re real.
I don’t get what they’re feeling,
But so what?
I don’t care that they’re real.
Sobbing so much,
You’d ask what it’s about.
If I told you,
You’d just laugh.
I mean,
Come on?
Look at me there.
Crying all over my book.
I’m sorry it looks weird,
It really must,
But it’s really just killing me so.
Ratings, book ratings,
That make me shoot myself in the foot.
Always right in the foot.
I glance over,
They look fine,
But really,
They’re bored out of their mind.
I can’t tell,
Never will,
That I don’t know when to stop.
Talking and talking,
Words endlessly flow,
And what is wrong with that?
Shut up Mom,
I don’t care that my AS is showing.
I hate when you say it,
It’s like an excuse,
To get away from all of the pain.
I don’t like all of the pain.
It’s showing,
It’s showing,
It’s showing again.
It’s showing forever on end.
I know that it’s showing again,
Guess what?
It always will.
Author notes
This is a poem I wrote about my Asperger's Syndrome out of boredom. It might be a little bit confusing if you haven't seen it in action, but oh well.
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