There’s a place I live that I cannot leave;
A place where all your actions seem untrue.
Where your closest neighbours will misbelieve
The intention behind a smile from you.
With twisted scowl is how your look of glee
Is met, as if some great and dreaded leer.
It’s as though my attempt to look friendly
Came off as some attempt to instill fear.
Then time passes, and with neighbour, paths cross;
Though this time I pretend they are not there
And after, behind you, can be heard laughs
Huffing, “at least this time he did not stare”.
If only, neighbour, you’d see this schism
Is due to the fact of my autism.