It's an oldie, but a goody! I just had to take my old poem out of mothballs for you all.
Masquerade
I have a little secret I wear upon my face
I keep it very near to me in a most convenient place.
I hope you do not guess it, you might take me to task
I take it out and put it on, it's my "normal" NT mask!
It keeps the world from pressing in; it makes me look like you!
I wear it so easily you won’t believe that it's not true
I laugh and nod and make my mouth do what passes for a smile
I walk and talk and do the stuff that makes me rank and file.
But underneath the artifice, I am bored with all your talk.
Your gossip and your ‘he said-she said’; at all of this I balk!
You're constantly rattling on about the very least of things
your husband's warts, your baby's farts, your last romantic fling.
I’m sure it’s very interesting, and I tilt my head just so
I don’t want to be left out, so I put on the show.
After all should I decide to let my Aspie out?
I could bore you too, to TEARS, and be thought of as a lout.
So when you’re on and on about the rights of "people of the pod*"
and force your strict conformity on politics, style, and God.
Mind games you play with no regard for innocence or youth
you're quick to point with fingers gnarled at what you see as 'Truth.’
But I bear it all with stoicism, and onward do I march
to keep lock step with all of you when inwardly I lurch
you rub me wrong, you irritate, you scrape my nerve ends raw
you constantly regale me with what you did and saw
So if I inwardly rebel against the draw of luck
and stifle yelling to your face, “you idiot! you suck!”
and out from the mask cracks the rebellion wells and oozes
pardon me, in the genetic crap shoot; YOU are the bunch of losers.
· (Pod people) obscure reference to a 1957 black and white horror movie called "The Night of the Living Dead" where people were cloned in pods like peas. it's poetic license, so sue me!