Immune (a sleep deprived “poem” I just wrote)

Don’t so much as look my way,

And if you do, take heed,

For whatever words you say,

My disdain you only feed,

I’ve no high horse,

Nor hopes and dreams,

No set life course,

Or so it seems,

But I know what I’m doing,

Immune to your sway,

Whilst you are still pursuing,

I’m still turned away.

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One response

  1. I like this. As a person with Asperger’s, damaged beyond repair by the neurotypical world, I wish I had turned away from it YEARS ago and been as determined as the voice in this poem is to REMAIN turned away.

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