Thriving in a crowd of familiar faces 

But comfortable in solitude
If unknown to me
Silent unless spoken to

Dismissive of opinions around me
Doing what I want, Doing how I want, Doing when I want
Without wondering whether someone’s watching 
Like an artist writing music

Any stillness broken by a constant rhythm in my head
Filling the holes of any dread
Melodically moving my body towards a beat
As if I were the King of Pop

Boldly and loudly projecting my thoughts
If there is a feeling of disagreement
There is a ceiling that may not be reached
When I let the time continue to tick until it’s too late