They call me “anti-social”,
and I suppose it’s true,
but they don’t realize just how close
I’m watching what they do.

I’ve seen how they treat each other,
the malice and the spite;
I’ve watched them writing bitter words
long into the night.

I’ve watched them running ragged,
and all but out of breath;
chugging liters of cheap coffee
just to stave off death.

Is it any wonder that I seek
a different life than that they keep?

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