I enjoy his company Riding shotgun Conversation No one to overhear Our inside jokes

Does it hurt? When you prick your finger No I do this just for fun Our fingers lose feeling

I wallow in my sadness As it pools up It has not swallowed me Who floats above its surface This surface

Dime ¿Qué es su lengua materna? Ni inglés Ni español Sus padres no hablan inglés

Scratchy plaid blanket Red with yellow stripes Hot and itchy underneath Claustrophobia strikes Purple and blue prisms

A noisy restaurant Listen Focus Beyond the dishes The music

I would never choose To eat a granola bar Or peanut butter crackers Though I eat them All of the time

The strings that attach me To this world Ground me Yes they sometimes Keep me from flying

I am unique In so many ways But while variety excites What we look for Is our common thread

Didn’t they know that people cared? That they were loved? Why didn’t someone tell them?