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Would it be scary if it got good?

Feel transparent

My soul can be lifted out

for mocking

With those ritualistically mimicking

Not caring what they lift

Don’t take it away-

The pain

They only want a

veneer of okayness

We all struggle

I’m human and there is

no apology

There is no blame


I start to show the real, honest, me

The awkward shuffle

Less misunderstood

Or caring less whether I’m read

and from seeing me,

what you took

Anxious and uncoordinated

I’m either over-friendly

Or I give these funny looks

Not important enough to be

read

You see

Yet made fun of

For the shifty, fearful eyes

Afraid of being ‘seen’


A stare feeling deeply intrusive

Constantly hyper vigilant

Living in my world

In my dream

So, catching too many eyes

Self-conscious alone in public spaces

if walking about

My universe is so calming

but how do I look when

I, half-alive, walk into roads

distracted

In my floating about

Floating and gloating

For some reason, women can never say

I’m great

and this is me

Walking without looking at my phone

is difficult

Where do you look?

It’s hard to be viewed there

What makes me more significant

They’re looking at the trees


I’m just a tiny, valuable cog

But the discomfort of being perceived

Happier sitting down

Can start to relax

Need a peaceful corner

On days I feel my presence

adds indifferently

Rather than compulsively subtracts

I move into quiet contentment

and my heart gets a couple of

hours reprieve


My anxious brain wants to

apologise for my presence

But my heart knows we had that

talk earlier 

I re-remembered that I’m worthy

My body and soul are going to

translate that in my very existence

We made a pact

I’m worthy without doing, or saying,

anything

Fact.

I have more days of writing

The days re-populating or habit-forming,

free

Your loss when you pass





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