Anthropophobia
I can handle all that life can bring,
I can cope with almost everything;
Social situations, though, they sting –
Those people (ugh).
Crash my car? I’ll smile and shake my head.
Cut my arm off? Duct tape where I’ve bled.
Party time? Perhaps I’ll stay in bed.
There’s people!
I know it’s up to me. Don’t get me wrong:
I ought to buckle up and get along.
It’s just that I don’t feel that I belong
With people.
I’m happy when I’m on a solo walk;
But add in others, though, and I might balk:
I’m much less happy when I’m forced to talk
To people.
Strand me, maybe, on a desert isle.
There I’ll build my beach-house, Crusoe-style;
But if Friday comes, I’ll run a mile –
He’s people!
I can fill creatively each day,
Doing, like Sinatra, things My Way;
Closeted, so I can keep away
From people.
…OK, that’s enough. I’ll stop this whine.
There’s a few close friends I like just fine.
They’re a special case, because they’re mine:
Not “people”!