It’s not my fault my intentions fall short of perception
Or my joy is just seen as a bore
It’s not my burden to bear that you’re so unaware
That to live as I am is a chore
How to mold myself so they’ll all like me?
How to mask my speech so they’ll all know it?
The formula promised friendship and security,
I followed it with painfully abject scrutiny,
But
my sole draining yield was the predestined failure,
That no matter my efforts I’m labeled a stranger