I've got,
pencil fingers and gloves of ink,
I've got,
wisps of cloud in the space where you think

I have,
a zipper mouth and faraway eyes,
I have,
a page for a tongue, that always tangles and ties

I do
silly things, that make grown-ups tut and sigh,
I do,
too little out loud and too much in my head, who knows why?

I don't,
always listen, and sometimes forget,
I don't,
have all the answers, at least, not yet

I like,
to see the world in fluorescent light,
I like,
to imagine and dance in the quiet of night

I watch,
teachers turn to dragons that belch brimstone and fire,
I watch,
reality crumble away, as I soar higher and higher

I am,
out of sync, intoxicated on stories and dreams
I am,
not trying to be rude, not like it seems,
I am,
just bumbling along, trying to get through,
I am,
just the same, but also different than you

because
I have a heart, a sight and voice
But,
Some of us live in our heads, and it doesn't feel like a choice.