I’m told I’m just a little bit too much

A little too strange to touch and the such

There’s a bit a bit out of place in the domain of my brain

Which reshaped my mind’s terrain in ways I can’t explain

It’s in the movements of my hands, the focus of my attention

Something behind my eyes that defies social convention

And instigates the struggle of my social incomprehension

Resulting in my peers and I existing in separate dimensions

Focus, watch the turns of their lips, ‘listen to the length of their words’

Faces are a tip that intentions slip, ‘let them know they are heard’

I plan my conversations to make my words easy to follow

So that I fit in, avoid social rejection, even if the space behind the mask is hollow