There's things people don't tell me, things I'm supposed to know,
In a group, feeling awkward, eyes darting to and fro.
For the mentally deficiant, life can be a breeze.
To meander through our lives, as happy as we please.

And though I curse the intelligence that I have been bestowed,
I would surely kill myself, be it revoked or slowed.
Validation of your pity is not what I pray,
Dear reader, I only wish to share why I feel this way.

Maybe what I feel cannot be put in words,
I'd say this feeling's uncomfortable, I wouldn't say it hurts.
I'm thankful for what I have where others laugh and sneer,
But it is those very same people that I fear.

Skin is only skin, Lace is only lace,
Hide behind a pen and forever hide your face.
Stay unknown and live forever as a trace,
Anonymity has no downfalls, where fame has no grace.

Speak out and lose your privacy, speak your mind and lose your life,
Work them down from the inside to avoid useless strife.
Now here is where I could go on about "Oh, my bleeding heart"
But I've decided to wrap it up before I tear this poem apart.