Uncomfortable

Sometimes,
Due mainly to my Aspergian bluntness,
I make people uncomfortable.
I know that it is because,
In this ego driven society,
Of insincere politeness.
Truth is not acceptable,
And it is extremely rude to point it out.

Catharsis of Truth

The gnawing at the soul,
The heaviness carried in the chest,
The horrible nausea which drives the bile of unspoken words,
Into gagging throats,
The unbearable strain on every joint,
As the burden of the bitter tasting poison,
Which flows,
Like a sepsis through blood,
And fouls entire bodies,
Entire nations,
All this,
Dissipates entirely,
And is lost within the realm of distant memory.
When people are given the opportunity to,
Speak their truth,
And be acknowledged.