So Let It Be
I don’t answer
Intensely personal questions people ask
For these shreds to pieces what is truly me
The pieces are of no use to them though.
The effort seems to stem from veiled envy
Incisive curiosity or even subtle insult.
I am forced to uncover and introspect
Ask myself why I’m under the prying lens
For my life’s energy dissipates reorganizing
The dislodged pieces in place once again.
I don’t react
When caustic comments people make
On the manner I behave seems odd to them
Or on the way I do or don’t do things
For them when they ask or even for myself
For these are innate traits I am born with
Discarding or changing which for their sake
Or walk on their footsteps they set would be
To dispense with a vital part of my psyche
And to exist as a void entity of no identity.
I don’t demonstrate
The feeling of appreciation articulately enough
If people do something good to me sometimes
For that action appears an expression overdone
Deceptively laden with fake display of gratitude
Which in essence hides the tacit expectation
That the good done is what is deserved and due.
When for this trait people criticize my insensitivity
A part of my mind inherently obliged though
Is tortured to premature and painful demise
I can’t endure for I don’t deserve the treatment
And they aim to maim part of my bruised persona
I can’t rejuvenate for it does no longer respond.
People say
I have gone or going mad.
I tell them, yes, I’m quirky
If self-preservation makes one so.
That’s why I am alive still
As a mad man at my will.
I say to me
So let it be.
February 6, 2018.
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