A Little Odd.

I know I'm a little odd.
In fact, I've been told repeatedly.
These large, hollow eyes see your disapproving sneers.
And these long graceful fingers can point out every insult.
It makes me...curious.
Why am I strange?
Because the only thing to ever pass my tongue is sugar?
Because I crouch like a gargoyle?
Because I examine before doing?
I am not strange for doing these things.
Rather, you are strange for noticing them.
Here we are,
A mystery unfolding in our palms,
And you want to focus on my glucose intake?
You stare at me,
When you should be focusing on the things I tell you.
You gasp and awe at my behavior,
Refusing to notice that I'm the only one trying to save others.
Why am I an oddity?
When death is randomly falling around you?
How am I strange?
When the secrets we unlock are greater than Heaven or Hell?
And how can we prevail?
If all you see is a pale thin boy with a mountain of sweets?