The Boy In That Corner

It was a class of fifty-six-
Seventh-C, they called it-

And, obviously, friendships were biased:
All the nerds on one side, the sportspersons on another,
The dancers in the middle, and the musicians on a side.
Them, and some more, and a little boy in the corner.

His face was an abode of serenity-
His eyes speaking dreams, his hair swaying
Like grass moving in a breeze.
His nose twitching occasionally
And his mouth chanting in an unknown tongue.

No one spoke to him, so he rose from his seat
And walked aimlessly around the class,
Tried talking to some people he thought were friendly;
Only to be pushed away by his peers.

Despite all the beauty on his face
The abnormality in his heart begun to dominate-

Dejected, he walked towards the door;
Towards the unusual spectator that he saw.
“Well, Hello there!”
There was no answer.
“What’s your name?”
A blank stare.

“Sir, he’s autistic. And his poor parents do not know.”

Oh.

And then he walked away, aimlessly.