It’s a question of Character. Therefore, I’ll fail
At resembling an answer that people can’t judge.
Every clan needs a scapegoat. I fulfill that need.
Every manicured front lawn has at least one weed.
Making eye contact sickens them. So, it’s a drudge
To acknowledge our presence. I’ve been placed in jail.
Do I choose to accept this then try to escape
By acting as a victim? Do I disregard
And dismiss the perception as not being real?
I appear to be cold blooded with heart of steel
And the brain of a robot that works way too hard
At some meaningless purpose. I’m in shit for shape.
I’m the Neighbor Nonsequitur. Making no sense
And being unpredictable aren’t friendly traits.
Do I search deeper in me to find what went wrong?
I am not in a space where I feel I belong.
With a true understanding my life recreates
A connection to clarity with no offense.