I am Good for Words

I am good for

words,

that is all

I am for.

Not to be seen,

touched, loved,

understood or

cherished;

only heard,

or rather,

read.

 

In person,

I am avoided.

My time is spent

alone.

The world stands

at a distance.

I reach out my hand

to touch,

and humanity

recoils.

 

Difficult.

Emotional.

Unstable.

Unnatural.

Unsuitable

for social

life.

 

So I pass notes.

I write my soul

on little slips of paper

and I fold them up

with care,

before I scoot them

under the door

to the outside

world.

Sometimes,

people read them.

 

 

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