They cover me
with dust
and pinstripe sheets
and a diagnosis as to why
I am considered
mismatched and different.
I am watching
painted new faces arrive,
and greet
and pay-to-play
while I decay in the realization
that I am unlike them.
I function differently
from all that is here,
my mechanisms must work
their way,
or else they think
they do not work at all.
There is a nod, an acknowledgement
from those who stare me down
while I look between their eyes,
or at their forehead,
just to avoid the unknown.
They only want to make a spectacle of me
as they try and shoot at my target
for some lackluster prize
that I will never let them win.
with dust
and pinstripe sheets
and a diagnosis as to why
I am considered
mismatched and different.
I am watching
painted new faces arrive,
and greet
and pay-to-play
while I decay in the realization
that I am unlike them.
I function differently
from all that is here,
my mechanisms must work
their way,
or else they think
they do not work at all.
There is a nod, an acknowledgement
from those who stare me down
while I look between their eyes,
or at their forehead,
just to avoid the unknown.
They only want to make a spectacle of me
as they try and shoot at my target
for some lackluster prize
that I will never let them win.
Kenleigh Gilbert is a 19 year old writer from the western region of North Carolina, near the lovely city of Asheville. She is a traveler, animal lover, and proud Aspie. She can be found on Twitter as @bookitschken, and on Instagram as @a.smile.from.a.veil.