Proxy

I dunno if this happens to anyone else
Maybe it's the thing that makes my feelings hard to develop
Or to care or to act out in the air,
But the funny thing is in irl
there are people who don't think about the same strife.
Or wonder why I give my life, devotion and care
to a bunch of strangers I've never seen hide or hair 
of. 

Maybe it's computer age, dawn of the technology
Maybe it's the fact that there are those that I've come to meet.
Maybe it's the feeling of relation that spreads across the nation but
it's built on faulty reality.

The truth is you don't know anything about me.
And likewise me to you, I don't know what you do
Whether you go out half drunk or go on to the zoo.

There is nothing to back you up, unless a snapchat, facebook 
is how we hook up.
But the truth is this
you'd never know I truly exist.
No matter how I persist the pessimist of my fellows
The ones who listen avidly to my whining and bellows
In flesh and daylight they say and resist 
"How do you even know these people really exist?"

"What if you're being catfished?" I hear some of them say.
And I gotta take a moment just to break away. I'm subjective in the mind
and loyal at heart, but the questions persist me even after dark.

"Who are these people? Where do they come from?"
I don't know I just know that I found some
"Do they know your name?"
No
"Do you know theirs?"
No
"Then why do you care?"
...

And then a voice in my ear whispers the same thing
The black ink in the text of a book forms the same name
The question of why echoes my very being
and I wonder if maybe seeing is believing...

And maybe I'm broken,
disjointed, my interaction misfocused
my mind isn't so sharp and truth is 
irl I'm not the smart kid.

I'm a stutter, a hiccup of human mistakes
and of misconception and left in a fountain of breaks
and im anxious and tired and always a mess of distress
from being attentionless.

And so I focus on animals, the things that I loved
since I was a child, being an animal was fun and beloved
my fascination turned to happiness the first time I came
that so many people in the world honestly felt the same.

But now I'm too old to play silly games
And animals are nice but people drive me insane
And there are problems in the world that need solving too
And my shoulders break under the weight of describing to you

The things we see on the news are all so very true
The world's chaotic and rockin and I don't know just what to do
I'm black and alone and I never had a home. 
I'm the weirdest girl around who's made of stuffed cotton not bone.

But it's a proxy...

    This poem is about: 
    Me
    My community

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