Other People: a poem about social overload

I can’t be with others
in a noise-gang which smothers;
their shouting and rage
would fill up this page
with cursing and ranting
with wheezing and panting
with foul-mouthed bluster;
a brain-dead cluster
of anger and sport –
no words of comfort.

Don’t mind them alone,
on the end of a phone,
if they use the right tone,
if they need a good moan –
I’ll listen, be there
as if I’ve no care,
for I don’t care a jot
that I have a lot
of angst and despairing.
I don’t need their caring.
Fears are for sharing –
but not mine
not this time;

I’ll find my own space
my individual place,
to deal with my pain
time and again.
In my own special way
I’ll have the last say
with a life that is marred
and a body that’s scarred.

Being creative is the mainstay of my life, and poetry, prose, and photography is where I express my deepest emotions. I also enjoy the challenge of design and create jewellery, fabric bags, and garments and home items in yarn. Diagnosed with ASD at the age of 68 after fifty years in and out of the mental health system, I now aim to explore and share my experiences over these years. Apart from blogs and short articles I'll share my life in my verse and images.

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