This is a poem about the way I feel sometimes because I am a bit different. Hope you like it (:
This is where I go, when I go.
To a room with no doors, no windows
Only walls.
They are colorless; not clear, not white.
They are thin,
Thin enough to see through
To hear through
But too thick to break.
I am here, but I'm not here
I'm trying to find a way to be let out
To be with them
But nobody can hear me
They don't hear like I do
See like I do
Think, feel, like I do
And their language is the act of speaking
But I don't speak like you.
There is noise everywhere
But you can't see it.
I'm trying to do what you do in Rome, "do as the Romans do"
To communicate.
But nobody has bothered to tell me
That you people can not hear.
This is where I go, when I go.
Somewhere that's familiar, somewhere that's not here.
And my body becomes a piano
full of only black keys-- the sharps and the flats
But you know that to play a song people want to hear
You need some white keys too.
I can see the keys
Feel them, hear them beneath my fingers
I know how to play your songs
But I can't read your music
Since you people can't hear like I hear
Like I think, like I see, like I feel
This is where I go, when I go.
But I will come back
To find those white keys
So that I can play a song, that you will understand.
