Straining. Poem by David Wicks

I walk a little funny,
I talk a little weird.
I'm indoors when it's sunny
And have sat quietly while everyone cheered.
I live my life inside me,
Poking my head out to see what's new.
I look around but you're all I see;
Everywhere I look is you.
It kills me deep inside to know
I do not exist in your heart.
That you have to bring me down so low
Just rips my soul apart.
But I won't break, I won't fall down,
And nothing you do or think or say
Will ever produce on my face a frown,
Or make me suffer for more than a day.

There are those I know who love me,
And others who breed only hate.
And perhaps that's the way it will always be,
But it would be foolish to sit by and wait
For those who hate to change their minds,
For the fact of the matter is this:
Those people are simply not worth my time
And afterall: ignorance is bliss.
But really, I am not complaining
About the people who do not care.
It's just so hard and I'm constantly straining
To find a way to cope and bare
With the pain of never being believed
And telling the truth, but accused of lying.
And all negativity that I have received
Makes me feel like I am dying.

The future seems oh so distant
And I may just end up failing,
But I will forever remain persistent
And I'm too far to consider bailing.
I have hopes and I have dreams,
And I try to pick the right path,
But no matter how hard I try, it seems
Like there's an error in my math.
Crunching numbers, thinking hard, holding my head up high.
I am patient, I hold strong,
But still I sit idly by.
And perhaps these choices I make are wrong,
But remember that I made them
And it is my duty to carry them out,
For it is these people and choices I can't condemn
As I follow this foggy route.