My Asberger's Apparently Loves Pentameter

 

 

To ask why I write poetry is to ask why I breathe

Why am I alive

Why I am who I am

Why every single sentence I utter is artistic

To figure out why I write, speak, and think like moi

Say hello to my right and left brain, they’ll tell you the tale

Of how I received my poetic bale to sale the flow I’m about to spit at this teen audience

From my head to my toes my rhymes are like nuclear

Say hello to my left and right brain, which describe my life and desires

 

Right Brain: Hello, her name is Nyah and if you know her well,

Her very soul is made of passion, love and fire

But let’s go back to a time where she wasn’t always like this

Before now, her whole life was a hit or a miss

 

Left Brain: Hello there, reader, I’m the logical one in this rap

So remember, Righty here may not always be the most beneficial

When it comes to retaining what is logical in her neuron-driven map

Although everybody seems to like her more since everyone thinks I’m super and artificial

But let’s get to the point here about our lovely little host

 

I remember a time when she tried hard to make some friends

Quite illogical a move if you ask a cerebellum like I

Humans are much too difficult to even try and make amends (heh)

Times like these I wonder why she tries and with that statement, I sigh

 

Right Brain: Allow me to intervene here, my friends… Lefty, why would you say such vile words?

I understand you’re here to calculate the situation at hand, but

Such a pessimistic attitude is for broken birds

You’ll be part of destroying her confidence one day and leave her in a rut

Left Brain: Don’t call me that ever again… do you even know who you’re dealing with? For somebody just like you, I’ll keep this brief

All I’m trying to do is reflect on her reality (it’s my job!)

That’s right, and I never get a round of applause

Leave some of that for yourself for once

You allow her to stay in her own world too much and that’s merely fantasy

Leave your own little bubble once in a while or she’ll become a social dunce

(Ugh…) Why do I always get the brunt of all your work?

Reality lives for meaning, your side lives for being berserk

I’m tired, “Righty”, let me have some of the credit

At least I didn’t completely shirk work or we’ll be in debt

Right brain: C’mon, get a grip, man! Anything would be better than this reality? Heh, maybe even death…

Listen to me, Lefty, reality is only good for what it is: escaping it. Being a social reject has been inevitable from the start.

Why not stay in rainbow worlds of romance and imaginary friendships? Remember, I was there when you wanted to break everything into pieces

Let’s get serious for a few verses…

You never understood her, did you world?

You treated her as if she a completely freak while you made her emotions into a swirl

Why the hell do you think she talks all the damn time? She’s more intelligent than you’ll ever give her credit for

But just because she’s autistic you’ll give her hell and more?

So you decide to break her down to the point where she had to escape into rhyme

Not even now does the people she love completely comprehend that she’s torn between making a friend or just being alone in her head for it to finally bore

That no matter what, she deserves a chance so she escaped into the Internet and heavy metal

To help her cope until finally one day she found some friends but before she thought that she had to settle

For the emotionally draining people that had made her relatively pessimistic, which is why her poetic debut was relatively sadistic

Full of hate, depression and rage, with hints about her being an autistic

But after a while, her poetry became more emotional and full of beauty

As her life slowly improved which prevented her from being so moody

Left Brain: Uh…? I don’t recall much of this at all…

Right Brain: You weren’t really active in this point of Nyah’s life, Lefty…

Left Brain: … Touché.

Right Brain: Ignoring you, poetry and her oddball friends may have just saved her life

However, this wasn’t always the cure as she had to find confidence within herself and use her talents to save her from strife-

Left Brain: Logically, how can you be so sure that this was her only coping mechanism she had access to? I mean, analysis of the situation might have loosened her grip?

Right Brain: Did you JUST forget what I told you?

Left Brain: No, but –

Right Brain: Let me finish for once, all right?

Writing was her only escape from the evils in this world, art was to keep her focused on her ambition and goals –

Left Brain: Slow down with the fire and let me speak before overexertion takes its toll

I think everybody reading this gets the point now and I think everybody may have even had a spasm from the rhymes that even I admit were kind of cold

It’s about time we come back to reality, my hometown

 

Nyah: Huh, guess I was stuck in my own head again. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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