I have friends,
but...
I am not one of them, I am my own person
I have family, I know people,
I talk, I laugh,
but...
I stand out, if only to myself
What does she value? What are his goals?
Those are the questions I ask.

Does he write poetry that he has to hide?
Does she wish she could help him?
These are the questions I ask.

On the bus I sit,
headphones plugging up my ears
I watch their lips move, their eyes blink,
their hysterical, laughing expressions,
but I hear nothing,
Because I am different.

They giggle at the boy across the row,
He is handsome, yes...
He pulls his fingers through loose hair

I won't be like those girls,
I'll remember what's important in life.
I am different, I am different.
I am unrelated.