Misunderstood—miscommunication.
What do you expect from me in this vocation?
This role of living in a world not built for me—
My frustration hides where you won’t see.

Beneath niceties and empty pleasantries,
A mask.
Not me—
A fabrication you've found acceptable,
Pleasing,
Easy to understand.
But I am not what you demand.

My world is Wonderland.
I’ve been compared to Alice—
Never quite right.
Too much or too little.
Too loyal or too fickle.
Too loud, too quiet.
Too much, too little.

Emotions surge, they overflow—
To a point you will never know.

Too much.
Too little.
Misunderstood.
Miscommunication.
I don’t want this vocation.

Let me stay in my location:
Wonderland—
Where no one needs to try
To understand.

Where chaos makes sense,
And silence is kind,
Where I can be whole,
Unjudged, undefined.

So I’ll walk this crooked path alone,
Not broken—just my own.
And if you ever choose to see,
You’ll find not madness,
But the real me.