Sometimes I want to be understood 

but I know people look at me like dead wood

They might think I am stand offish 

that I don’t belong in an office 

That I am unsociable 

or just plain weird 

Someone to be feared

I have walked the corridors in mental institutions 

I am reminded that most truths are illusions 

that there aren’t many solutions

in this life

and trauma are the wounds that often get reopened by people 

who aren’t evil

but are ignorant 

and every where people are playing games to gain attention 

that’s where identity survives 

But I am in the minority because I won’t fit in the racket 

of this life’s corrupt core

I barely survive grasping at straws 

every day a war

to be heard amongst the shouting words of others